There Is Always A Beginning To A Situation
by brokehisactionman
Summary: Sherlock needs help from John in the shower after being attacked, one thing leads to another. However it ends badly. All may not be lost.
1. Chapter 1

"This is a great example of how that big brain of yours gets you into trouble, Sherlock" expressed John as he cleaned the latest wound Sherlock had acquired.  
This time it was Sherlock fault, he wasn't to know that outing one of the Russian drug gang members was going to cause such a fuss. Sherlock's arm had been slashed as he defended himself from the violent criminal. Just a small defensive wound, no hospital required as Sherlock has stated at the scene. There was no arguing with Sherlock when it came to injuries, all John could do was bandage him up and send him on his way. After the daily ritual of tea and the promise of a well deserved sleep John left Sherlock to dwell on the outcome of the last case.

"Moronic imbecile, I'm going to have limited mobility in this arm now. How am I going to complete experiments or play my violin for the next few days?" muttered Sherlock towards the skull on the mantel piece. With that he collapsed backward onto the sofa and slept in what look like a rather uncomfortable position.

A shooting pain woke Sherlock up; he had rolled on to his arm during the night as was paying the price for it. With a grunt he heaved himself up into a sitting position just in time for John to come into the room with morning tea and toast.

"How is the invalid, this morning?" asked John with a slight smile.  
"Bored" he retorted. Standard really, with a bad arm it was unlikely that the walls were going to escape the raft of a bored Sherlock. Especially an injured Sherlock.

"John, I hate to ask this of you... but I require your assistance to help me in the shower" Sherlock almost whispered staring at the groves in the floor. He has never in his life asked for help, he almost felt embarrassed he could feel his cheeks reddened at the growing silence that hung in the air.

Sherlock's request had truly surprised him. He assumed Sherlock would at least try to work though the pain of his arm, he never fought that Sherlock would even ask John anything like.  
"Uh, um sure. If you need my help because of your arm, I don't mind helping you out mate. Just say the word and I'll be there" John responded.

"Oh, well perhaps now. Get it out the way?" suggested Sherlock in an effort to get this done and out the way.

John followed Sherlock into the bath and set about turning the shower on and getting a couple of towels ready. A sudden though hit John; he had never seen Sherlock naked before. He seen naked men in the army of course, but this was different this was Sherlock. Sherlock his best friend, Sherlock the virgin. Was John the first person to see Sherlock body, ever? By Sherlock's obvious discomfort from asking for help, he assumed so. John didn't know whether to feel pleased about Sherlock wanting him to do this or worried. Sherlock comment broke John's little daydream over the subject.

"John can you wash my hair for me, I'd rather not get these bandages wet." Sherlock gestured to his arm while attempting to wet his body. John couldn't help but stare after the man. He was gorgeous. There was no other word in John's limited vocabulary that could describe Sherlock's pale toned body. John just followed after him like a lost puppy.

It became apparent that this task at hand was being hindered by the fact that John was on the outside of the shower cubicle while Sherlock was inside.

"For goodness sake John, come in here. It's taking too long for you to attempt to reach over the bath. Plus I'm worried about your shoulder, it's slightly more slumped than the other indicated it's hurting you, so please for the both us just get in here" snapped Sherlock.

With that John processed to strip off his jumper, shirt, socks and trousers until it was stood in a dark pair of boxers (he was glad he had not chosen to wear his red pants this morning). He stepped into the now tightly pack cubicle and continued to clean Sherlock.  
'_I still straight. Washing another man's body is not gay. Oh god, since when did he have these muscles? Stop it John. You his friend and his doctor, just helping him out'. _John chanted over and over in his head while continue to wash the soap bubbles off of Sherlock's body.

There was silence in the shower, nothing needed to be said at this moment.

Sherlock turned around in order to let John continue when he observed John. He was aware he was staring at John's neck but he couldn't help it but see his pulse rate quicken, he had acquired small beads of sweat just under the hairline and to top it off Sherlock note the dilation of John's pupils.  
Sherlock tried to think why John was behaving like this, could it be the heat from the water? Or was John feeling claustrophobic in this crowded cubicle? Or could this behaviour be because Sherlock was currently standing in front of John naked, with the spray of the water running over his body? It couldn't be John was straight. Straight, straight, straight. Or maybe about as straight as a roundabout right now.

Sherlock's staring was just making this situation worse.

"John, I thought..." Sherlock choked on the rest of his sentence. "Don't, Sherlock. Just don't." John warned in a low commanding voice. Staring a head into John's eyes, Sherlock pushed forward ever so slightly. Just to see what John would do. Nothing apparently. Sherlock continued to move forward pushing himself up against John's body.  
If John was straight, why was his body betraying him? Aware of both of their arousals stirring, neither of them dared to break eye contact. John still had his hands on Sherlock hips; the task of washing him had all but been abandoned. This was slowly becoming a mind game, of who was going to make the first move, be it to walk away or to push themselves onto the other.

Looks like Sherlock was going to have to make the first move for the both of them. He inched his face closer to John's. He could almost taste the distinct brand of tea John has drunk that morning. Gradually Sherlock lightly kissed John. A single kiss. Which turned into another single kiss.

"Sherlock. I'm not... I'm not gay Sherlock", John quietly protested.

"John please. I need. I need you" Sherlock grunted back.

This response was all John needed; he still wasn't gay, just making an exception for Sherlock.  
John pushed back to capture Sherlock's lips once again, there was nothing nice about this kiss, it was hard and bruising. Almost to fierce to be seen as a non- loving gesture. John hands became tangled in Sherlock's curls while Sherlock wrapped one arm around John's waist to pull him closer, pushing their bodies together even more. Sherlock was pleased with the moans he was pulling from John. All blood flow was going south and fast. Sherlock pulled away in order to drop to his knees eager to please and entertain John. John's pleasure was more important than his. He needed to show John how great this could be.

Before John had a chance to get his breathe back, Sherlock had pulled down his remaining boxers and was already sucking his cock, with John's pre-cum hitting his taste buds he began. The action was too uncoordinated and clumsy, but John didn't have the heart to tell him. However Sherlock was learning from John's moans how he liked to handled.  
With one hand working the base of John's cock, Sherlock suckled the tip while gradually running his tongue under the shaft, against the vein. Sherlock moved his hand so that he could play with John's balls at the same time. Sherlock's confidence was improving, taking a leap of faith he deep-throated John.  
That was all John needed as encouragement, with hands tangled in Sherlock's dripping hair, he thrust into Sherlock's mouth trying to more friction.

"Sherrr... Gonnna... Cum" gasped John.

He came in Sherlock's mouth with water from the shower still spraying them. Sherlock much to John's surprise swallowed every drop of John's seed, milking him dry. Sherlock rocked back on his heels to face John. Then it hit John about the consequences of their actions. With a muttered 'Sorry', John pulled up his wet boxers and practically ran out the bathroom leaving a shocked Sherlock behind.

**This is my first Sherlock FanFic, comments and advice would be much appreciated! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

Only once before had Sherlock cried. He was just a child; he had his bee collection taken off him for revealing his Father's affair to the rest of the family during Christmas dinner. But this, was different, every emotion he had squashed down was becoming back up from the deepest recesses of his mind and washing over him. All because of that stupid John Watson.

After John had left the bathroom in a hurry, Sherlock had quickly locked himself in his room to avoid his flatmate. Instead of torturing his violin for hours to annoy John, he sobbed into his pillow. He cried for being so being so dense as to think John would even want him in that way, he cried for failed past lovers, he cried until he just didn't have the energy left.

Morning soon turned into night, night into the next morning. The dull ache Sherlock felt in his arm was nothing compared to the hole that had been torn from his chest.

7am: John was moving around in his room. Sherlock could imagine was he was doing by the pressure and sounds of the floorboards. John was pacing. The thought of facing Sherlock after the events of yesterday was almost too daunting for him. Enough was enough; John decided now was the time to go down stairs, if he were to face Sherlock then so be bit. John's new found confidence was wasted, Sherlock hadn't come out of his room yet, John let out the breathe he had been holding since bounding down the stairs. John had to go the surgery, the approaching awkward face to face moment with Sherlock could wait. Draining the rest of his tea, he hurried to work.

* * *

After a busy day dealing with mundane people at the surgery, John made it home soaked from the rain. His limp had slightly started again, almost like it knew there was tension between Sherlock and him. John hoped those 17 steps to their door were longer but he had already walked slower than normal in an attempt to prolong the time before seeing Sherlock again. With hesitation John pushed the door opening slightly, checking for the lanky pale man. But there was no sign of him.  
John's eye went to the coat hanger. Sherlock's coat and scarf were still there. _Damn,_John quickly thought, Sherlock was here meaning the long overdue '_chat_' was coming as there was no excuse to elude any more.

Shuffling into the room, there was still no sign of the detective. The television was off, there were no ongoing experiment in the kitchen and the kettle had not been touched since that morning. John didn't need to be the worlds only consulting detective to tell that Sherlock had not left his room for over 24 hours.

"Right, come on John. It's just a little talk about what happened. Nothing more. You are still straight" whispered John into the growing darkness.

Tapping three times on the wooden door, John waited for a response. Nothing.

"Sherlock, you in there?"

Still nothing, not even a sound from inside the room could be heard. Normally this wouldn't of worried John, Sherlock was normally in his mind palace during most of the day, but after yesterday's actions maybe Sherlock was too hurt to even look at him.

"I'll break down the door if I have too, Sherlock. Please just let me see you. We need to talk" pleaded John though the door.

"Piss off" Finally; there was a sign of life from inside Sherlock's room.

"Look Sherlock, we have to at least discuss what happened.. I'm not gay" counteracted John. With that the door was yanked open, crashing into the side wall and out came Sherlock who flew straight at John, with balled up fists aiming right for John's face. John had to admit his reaction times were getting a bit slower now he had been out of the army for so long now, but he just did not expect Sherlock to react like that. Slamming into John, Sherlock had toppled him onto the floor. They soon became a mess of fumbling limbs each trying to attack the other while defending themselves.

"You liar, John Watson. Liar!" Sherlock wailed. John instinctively wrapped his arms around Sherlock's frame and hugged him tightly, rocked him gently and wiped away the falling tears from Sherlock's colourless face. John muttered his apologies softly, while still holding onto Sherlock. They stayed in that position until both their heart rates had calmed down, and the heavy breathing had ceased. With a grunt Sherlock pushed himself off of John and stumped back into his room and shut the door with a quiet click.

John didn't see him for the rest of the night.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2. I promise it will get better for Sherlock! Keep reading :) **

**Kt x**


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a few weeks, since the event. The awkwardness had decreased somewhat around the Doctor and the Consulting Detective. They still went on cases, ate takeaway and moaned about the simple-minded police idiots but there was always an element of hollowness around them especially when the silence between them lasted a little bit too's arm had rapidly healed, not because Sherlock followed all the advice from his Doctor but because of the increased time he had spent hidden in his room away from John. Therefore with no pressure being put on his arm from Sherlock's frenzy of a lifestyle.

* * *

It was lunch time at the surgery; John had been rushed off his feet he could feel his shoulder seizing up. John could really not be asked with the repetitious illnesses of the patients and the humdrum workload of the surgery, for the most part of the morning he wished he could be anywhere but here. He had just sat down to eat his lunch when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

We have a case, it's at least a 7. I need you - SH

As much as he was itching to get onto to a new case with Sherlock he knew Sarah was still pissed at the amount of time he had already taken off to run around London with the mad man. Working with his ex was never going to be an easy thing.

I can't Sherlock; I'll meet you later if you still need my help. - JW

* * *

Packing away his bag and filing his paperwork, John was all but ready to walk out the surgery door and get home to Baker Street. It was already darken in the streets of London and the harsh chill in the air was doing his shoulder any good. John knew he should have taken a taxi back despite the rapidly increasing hole in his wallet.  
Stumbling though the door, John hung up his coat and pushed off his shoes. Walking towards the bathroom, he peered into Sherlock's room though his open door to see Sherlock led on his bed, arm hanging off the bed with a needle jutting out from Sherlock's pale skin. Anger flashed though John. Lunging forward though the doorway John towered over Sherlock in an effort to see if he was even still alive. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open, eye puffed up and red raw. A second glance towards the needle conformed that there was not even any remains of a substance within the barrel. It was empty; the plunger had not even been touched.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry John, I was weak. I was only testing myself" declared Sherlock, looking into John's eyes.

John had only ever seen Sherlock vulnerable, those couple of weeks ago. Before he knew what he was doing, John had leaned forward, he had meant it in a comforting gesture, but this was quickly turning into something more. The distance between Sherlock's and John's lips was decreasing ever so slightly each waiting for the other to close the gap. Goosebumps were rising on Sherlock's arm, dropping his eye level to the still present needle; he looked at it like it had personally offended him. John also looked towards Sherlock's arm, taking the hint that is making Sherlock uncomfortable, John tugged the needle out of Sherlock's arm as softly as possible. With that John backed away from Sherlock and lumbered out of the room.

Sherlock let out a breath, almost a sigh. John Watson was still straight, much to the dismay of Sherlock. John Watson could be a stubborn man when he wanted to be, but so could Sherlock.

Following John out into the living room, he realised that John would want to ask about the needle and the drugs. Apparently John felt that talking about things could really help, if only Sherlock would open up more often. It was John who spoke first.

"Are you going to explain about what happened in there?" John asked, carefully judging Sherlock's reaction to the sensitive question.

"The case, John. The victim was so young, still in university. His food had been laced with heroin, by his ex who wanted revenge. It was made to look like a suicide the murderer did not count on me seeing the signs that he was not a drug user at all. My personal experiences with drugs helped me to see the truth, ironic really. I could smell it; the drug was still in the air from when the food was cooked, I almost ran back here to get my stash. I only wanted to feel it again, I'm sorry if I disappointed you" Sherlock reciprocated. John pondered his answer for a moment, cautiously thinking of a response.

"It's okay; you didn't mean to cause harm. As long as you don't relapse its all okay Sherlock" gently smiled John back at him.

John raised his hand towards Sherlock, gesturing him to step forward. Hand in hand, John gently tugged Sherlock to the sofa in order sit him. Misreading the signs, Sherlock leaned in to John and kissed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Screw what John Watson had to say, Sherlock needed this much like he needed air. Pushing his luck, Sherlock tried to deepen the kiss, only to be pushed off onto the floor with a soft thud.  
Appearing up at John, he tried to make his best puppy eyes at him only to be met with a strong stare. The stare that was only reserved for the soldier side of John. In one swift move, John stood up and strode out the room. In was in that moment Sherlock realised that he would never let sentiment bubble up inside of him for a man like John Watson. He would not pursue a relationship with someone so defensive about their sexuality. Sherlock Holmes was going to be the cold calculating man he had always been, and it was all John Watson's fault.

* * *

For the next couple of days they had established a routine; Sherlock would torture his violin for hours at end, then hide in his room between the hours of 6am to 9am, while during these hidden hours John would get up and go to work. After John had left, Sherlock would either destroy a part of the flat or find new places in the kitchen to hide rotting experiments just to get a reaction out of John.  
It was a bleak Friday morning when Sherlock received a text from Lestrade asking for assistance on a case. It was a 6 at best, but the text conformed that Sherlock could bring John with him if he wished, almost making John sound like a pet of Sherlock's. The whole of the Yard knew this was pretty much the truth; where every Sherlock went, John would follow like the eager pet he was.  
For once Sherlock did not want John by his side; he didn't even want to look at him for fear of breaking down in front of him and the rest of the yarders. He grudgingly accepted the case, and practically bolted out the door before John came home.

* * *

As the sun settled on London a glow illuminated the street as John limped home, his limp once again proving how much he needed Sherlock. Even if own body knew how much he need the curly hair man, yet he could not admit it himself. As he approached the black glossy door he called home, he felt his pocket vibrate. A text.

Why aren't you here with Sherlock, we have a case? – GL

For a moment this puzzled John, Sherlock hadn't mentioned a new case. To think about the last couple of days Sherlock hadn't said anything to him. The silence between them was becoming immature now.

He didn't tell me. Where are you? – JW

Just down the street from a club called '3 Million'. Sherlock has insisted he heads the uncover operation in order to find the serial killer who has been killing gay men. So I thought I would text you before Sherlock gets hurt. Again. – GL

A cold shiver ran though John. The words 'serial killer' and 'killing gay men' stood out from the text. John had to be there, just in case the worst happened. He didn't care that they weren't talking he just needed to at least see Sherlock. Signalling the next taxi, he gave the address and was on his way.

* * *

As soon as John arrived, Sherlock's eyes narrowed on him.

"Who the hell invited you here?" Sherlock snapped at him, voice laced with bitterness. The other Yarders quickly looked between the two men, trying to deduce for themselves why there was now a thick layer of tension and awkwardness in the air. In the same tone as Sherlock, John replied to him.

"Greg did. He didn't want you to go running off and getting yourself killed. Heavens knows why. The flat would be cleaner without you there."

Shit. John didn't mean to say that, only think it. _It was Sherlock's fault_, he mentally reassured himself.

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach Sherlock felt a stab of hurt from John's comment.

Without a single glance back, Sherlock turned to talk to the other police officers about the details of the plan.

* * *

Sherlock had decided that his plan was the best (of course) he would walk into the club, deduce who the murder was, flirt with said murderer to get the information by using a hidden camera and an ear piece then have the murderer arrested before becoming murdered his self. Simple plan, really. Only Sherlock had the arrogance to pull this off. Or be killed in the process.

Sherlock practically waltzed into the club, followed by Greg and John a few minutes later. John and Greg sat themselves in the corner, where they could see Sherlock clearly.  
Less than an hour later a young man, with straightened auburn hair bumped into Sherlock. To the untrained eye, this was just an accident. But to Sherlock this was an invitation, the man had slipped a note into Sherlock's pocket. Watching from the camera, Sherlock, John and Greg all read the note at the same time.

_I have not been able to stop staring at you since you and your beautiful arse came through the door. Meet me outside in ten. Malcolm._

Boring and dull were the first words Sherlock thought reading the note. Sherlock deduced from the note that it had been written before the man had even entered the club. This man had planned on doing this, whether or not Sherlock had been in this club or not. But still curiosity got the better of him.

That's when John came on in his ear piece. "Don't you even think about it Sherlock. You do not put yourself in danger" John's voice buzzed low under the music.

Fuck what John thought. Sherlock never did as he was told. He was going to meet this man.

* * *

Stepping out in to the chilly air, Sherlock manoeuvred his way around the drunks and slipped into the nearest ally where a shadowed figure was waiting further down, smoking a cigarette. Looking around and observing his surroundings he noticed John and Greg coming up behind him. He took a step forward and spoke loudly down the alley way.

"I got your note, Malcolm"

"Oh I rather hoping you would pursue me out here" Malcolm replied.

With that the other man slowly stepped out from the shadowed wall, flicked his cigarette onto the floor and watched Sherlock almost like he was a piece of meat. Seeing that look in the man's eyes made John feel sick who was still observing in the background, ready to run and save Sherlock if he needed it.

Malcolm confidently raised his hand to stroke Sherlock's angled face. "So beautiful" complimented Malcolm, Sherlock only hummed in response. Taking that as encouragement, he lunged to capture Sherlock's lips. The kiss soon became a battle for dominance, each of the men's tongue was sliding against the other, Malcolm pushed Sherlock up against the wall and attacked his neck with love bites leaving his mark on him. At this point Greg had to turn his head away, feeling slightly guilty at watching this hidden in the darkness while John could not direct his eyes away not out of pleasure but because he wanted to rip the other man's face off for touching **_his_**_Sherlock._

_"_It's a shame it is going to have to end this way" said Malcolm as he pulled out a knife and plunged it straight into where Sherlock's chest was.

With that John ran forward without thinking, and punched Malcolm straight in the jaw knocking him backwards onto the stone floor. Turning around John saw a sight he didn't want to see Sherlock slumped against the wall.


	5. Interlude

**Hey everybody! **

**Just a quick interlude to let you guys know I'm hoping to up date soon, I've had such a great response for this story, thank you ever so much. **

**In reply to wordswhatareinmybrain Don't worry, there will be a little romance in the next chapter for you! **

**In reply to Johnlock Forever, Thank you! **


	6. Chapter 6

Without grace, Sherlock pulled himself up from the dingy wall and called out to Greg.

"You have your man and your weapon, I'm sure you have enough information to put him away, it's hardly beyond you. I'm going home"

Long dark coat swinging behind him, Sherlock took off to hail a cab leaving John stood there, dumbstruck. In that instant John realised that bastard was wearing a stab-proof vest. He didn't even have the courtesy to inform John he would be safe the whole time. Utter bastard. John was mad, even fact John was fuming and was going to have words with that prick when he got home. Cautiously steeping though the crowd of police and public John thrust his way into the open and onto the pavement. Grabbing a waiting cab, he gave his address, sat back and let his anger bubble up more.

* * *

Shutting the door behind him, Sherlock proceeded into the living room, shrugging off his coat onto the floor. He took a deep breathe and noted the slight shaking his hands and the increased heart rate - He was anxious. He need his little trick would get a rise out of John, it was just a matter of time before the Doctor walked though the door. Sherlock wondered whether the shouting would come first or a punch to the face for not informing John of his protection. He began to pace the flat. Thinking about the nights events, he started to feel regretment at his actions and slightly guilty, Sherlock had never felt guilty. John was the cause with all these new emotions. Damn that man.

The gentle creak of the front door indicated to Sherlock that John was home. Bracing himself for the on coming fight, Sherlock faced the window and waited. Counting each step John took, Sherlock was becoming more agitated. He just wanted to get this over with, have John shout at him, properly punch him then move on.

John was behind him, waiting for Sherlock to at least turn around and acknowledge him.

"Sherlock. What the hell was that?" John gritted though his teeth.

"Don't know what your talking about John, you really need to be more specific" retorted Sherlock. That response just made John more pissed.

"The stab-proof vest, you wanker. You didn't even tell me. Were you so ignorant, that you could spare a moment to at least let me know? Do you have any idea how I feel? No of course you don't, you emotionless machine. I thought you were dead" John's voice faltered on the last word. With tears threatening to fall, John stared at the floor.

"Don't you even dare say that John. I distinctly remember you saying, 'The flat would be cleaner without you there' so don't give me that shit." Sherlock quickly screamed back.

_So he had been hurt by my comment then. _John made a mental note to make up for that. Sherlock was just about continue on his rant when John roughly shoved him against the wall. Sherlock was prepared to be at least punched in the face but was shocked when he felt John push himself up against him, and roughly kiss his mouth. Sherlock didn't dare move for fear of this being a figment of his imagination which could disappear at any moment.

" I didn't mean it. I need you, you cured my limp and made me feel useful" John tried to reason with the Detective.

Going in for a another unresponsive kiss, John was worried as to why Sherlock was not even moving. Slightly stepping back, John stared into Sherlock's eyes.

"Why are you doing this to me?" whispered Sherlock to a confused John.

"What do you mean?" said John while stroking the side of Sherlock's face like he was comforting a cat.

"You can't just let me keep getting my hopes up. You call me emotionless, wonder why. Anything is better than continually being hurt by someone like you" Sherlock bitterly spat back.

Sherlock was referring to last couple of weeks. John knew he had been a jerk. Walking out on a virgin who just gave their first blowjob was appalling by John's standards.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Sherlock. I was a fool. I was too busy thinking about my own sexuality crisis. I was selfish, but please I just need to touch you" sobbed John.

By the end of John's sentence, Sherlock had his eyes closed. But gave a gentle nod for John to proceed. With this John reached out to link his hand with Sherlock's. John rubbed his thumb over the back of Sherlock's hand in a consoling gesture. He also wound his other hand in Sherlock's blackening curls, smoothly massaging Sherlock's head. Claiming Sherlock's lips once again he progressively increased the speed of the kiss, making sure Sherlock was responding to him this time. Rubbing his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip he hinted at making the kiss more passionate. John didn't care that Sherlock's arms were motionless at his sides, he was just grateful that Sherlock was kissing him back. Their tongues slid together, the heat and wetness was amazing. Both could taste the other, it was glorious. Pulling back, John began to kiss Sherlock's neck, and sucked the pulse point until a purpling bruise could be seen. John could hear Sherlock's breath hitch at this. Smiling, John continued to work his way down until he reached Sherlock's shirt. Looking at Sherlock for approval, John received a short nod and start to undo the tight buttons. Dropping the shirt near the coat on the floor, John nudged Sherlock to the sofa. He had managed to get Sherlock to lay on his back without even given a verbal command. John carefully mounted Sherlock and placed kisses on Sherlock's protruding collarbone, then down his abdomen. He dipped his tongue into Sherlock's navel, causing Sherlock to shiver from pleasure and a deep groan to escape his parted lips.

As John shifted though down Sherlock's body he could feel the other man's erection, tented his suit trousers. This just made John's mouth water at the thought of pulling it out. John delicately unbuttoned and unzipped Sherlock's trousers and tugged them to his ankles. Focusing back onto the silk boxers, John leaned in a placed his nose near Sherlock's erection and lightly kissed though the materials. He could hear Sherlock mutter his name over and over again, almost chanting. Steadily, John released Sherlock's cock from the confinements of the boxers, it sprang free, jutting from the rest of Sherlock's pale body. John took the cock with in his month insistently sucking the glands, while placing a hand under Sherlock's balls. Playing with them just as John would like his to be played with. With his other hand he stroked Sherlock's hips in an effort to stop him from pushing himself futher down John's throat.

"Joh.. John.. Jawn.. I can't. I'm going to. Come." whined Sherlock, eyes rolling back into his head.

With a small pop noise, John pulled off of Sherlock's cock, he wanted him to last longer. "What do you want Sherlock?" urged John.

" I want. I want you to fuck me hard. Now." Sherlock divulged to John. The vulgarity of Sherlock's answer just made John harder. Towing Sherlock from the sofa he made him follow him to his room, striping quickly he practically jumped on Sherlock knocking them onto the bed. Sherlock kicked the rest of his clothing off from his feet and gripped John.

John grabbed some of the lube he used for masturbation and pumped some onto his fingers to warm the clear liquid up.

"I want you to trust me, if you want me to stop, just say so" John let Sherlock know.

Pushing Sherlock's legs open wider, he entered Sherlock with one finger, rubbing his insides trying to find the sweet spot inside Sherlock. The finger felt alien to Sherlock, but felt natural. John hit his prostate with accuracy. Sherlock convulsed in pleasure. He began fucking himself on John's finger trying to hit that spot again. Pulling out, John pushed 2 fingers inside him. Then 3 fingers, until he was fully stretched. Pumping the lube again, John slicked himself up, and breached Sherlock with his rock hard cock.

"Oh god. Sherlock. Your so tight. Ah Fuck. It feels so good" articulated John, with each thrust he distracted Sherlock with a kiss to distract from any pain he might be feeling. Using his other hand, he also wrapped it around Sherlock's reddening cock and began to stroke in time with the thrusts.

"I can't hold on anymore" stated Sherlock.

"Come for me" commanded John.

White sticky semen coated John's hand as he stroked Sherlock into bliss. Following suit, John came inside Sherlock, with blurred vision from such a powerful orgasm. He pulled his softening cock out of Sherlock and collapsed next to him. Wrapping his arms around Sherlock's pale body, John lightly kissed Sherlock's temple as they both drifted into a post sex sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up with stiff limbs, John glanced around the room. He was alone in bed, the sheets were cold and crumbled. There was no sign of Sherlock. John wondered if there would be any awkwardness between them after last night's activities. Deciding to get up, he pushed himself up from the bed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, steadying himself on the wooden floor. Grabbing fresh clothes from the drawers, he dressed quickly, to nervous about what would happen between him and Sherlock. Padding down the stairs, John can smell burning bread and fruity tea in the air. Sherlock is cooking, or at least attempting to cook. Poking his head around the kitchen door, he saw Sherlock getting frustrated with the cooker, but also the entire kitchen had been free from Sherlock's experiments. This was unfamiliar even for Sherlock.  
With a grunt, Sherlock slammed the pan against the cooker, making John jump. Deciding to step in before Sherlock broke anything, (it would't be the first time), disarming the pan handle out of Sherlock's hand, John questioned him on his actions.

"What are you doing? It's not like you to even look at kitchen equipment let alone use it!" John joked.

"I was making you breakfast, it's the least I could do for you" replied Sherlock.

Stroking the side of Sherlock's face, John could only smile. This gesture gave Sherlock confidence at least they were on speaking terms, it was a start after last nights event. Getting straight to the point, Sherlock decided to straight out ask John about the situation between them.

"Are we going to have anal sex again?" spoke Sherlock with a stern look. John all but chocked on his tongue. Wow, Sherlock could be forward. Thinking before replying John carefully organised the sentence in his head, making sure it was clear. Clearing his throat he began.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want to. I'm not saying I wouldn't want to. Because I wouldn't mind" stuttered John. In order to stop John from flailing over his sentence he leaned in and cut the rest of John's sentence off with a quick kiss covering John's mouth with his. Soon John tangled his hairs with in Sherlock's unruly curls. The kiss became heated, it was far too early for morning erections.  
"Easy tiger" John laughed into Sherlock's mouth. Stretching his arms behind him, John grabbed his tea and went into the sitting room to grab the morning paper.

"John, I have a question. Does this mean we are _boyfriends_?" Sherlock the end of the sentence bitterly. The word sounded so childish, immune and not serious enough.  
"I guess. But we could call it partners, or other half, or maybe even significant other" offered John. Toying over the names in his mind, Sherlock came up with an alternative.

"What about husband?" queried Sherlock. John's eyes bulged at the idea of being married to Sherlock. Maybe not then.  
"Stupid idea, forget I said anything" Sherlock quickly retorted, after seeing John's discomfort at the subject. Nothing more was said about it.

Placing the paper down and glancing up at the clock John thought it was best to leave for work now before it got any more awkward.  
"Well I'm off to work now" stated John. He walked over to Sherlock and gave him a goodbye kiss. He could get use to this, John quickly thought. Grabbing his coat he, pounded down the stairs and out the front door.

* * *

It had been a couple of weeks since they had officially become partners. Nothing much had really changed they still went on cases, still argued over rotten eyes near John's jam in the fridge and still ate takeaways daily. The only thing that had changed was their sex life. John no longer had to spend money on those pathetic dates in order to get laid. however he still felt awkward purchasing the required lube for them, he always left that to Sherlock, as he never felt guilty over this types of things and also because Sherlock was always the receiver They still hadn't told any one about their change of relationship, not even Mycroft knew. John would rather keep it that way then be kidnapped and given the '_If you hurt my brother I'll break your legs_' speech. Both John and Sherlock were still getting used to being in a relationship with each other. They were still learning how to deal with situations which ended up in arguments and John storming off to the local pub, coming home and having make up sex with Sherlock.

The first mayor test to their relationship came, when there was a knock at the door.

Trudging down the stairs, John pulled the stiffened door of Baker Street open with a creak. Standing there was a man, slightly tanned in complexion with shaggy blonde hair, that was beginning to curl at the tips. He was dressed in a light blue three piece suit, looking quite attractive John though to himself.

"Hello, I'm looking for a Holmes, may I ask if he is here?" inquired the poshly spoken man.

"Yeah, he is here. Follow me" replied John. With that the man stepped into the house and followed John up the seventeen steps to 221B.

"Sherlock there is man here to see you" John announced over the violin that Sherlock was currently torturing.

Turning around the face the man, Sherlock insistently recognised him. His violin fell from his hands, hitting the floor with a loud clatter and smashing into three separate pieces.

"Victor" whispered Sherlock.


	8. Chapter 8

John's eyes flicked between the man who Sherlock presumed knew, Sherlock's smashed violin and Sherlock's face. John waited for the silence to be filled with answer of who the hell this man was and why he was here. The possibilities ran though John's mind. No one could make Sherlock react like that, what if this man was an old friend. Impossible Sherlock doesn't have friends, at least no friends apart from John. If this man was from Sherlock's past, why hadn't he mentioned it before? John thought he knew most things about Sherlock's past by now, so why didn't John know abut this man. He didn't know whether to be angry at Sherlock for keeping this from him or hurt that he couldn't tell him about it. It was Victor who broke the silence first.

"Sorry , let me introduce myself. I am Victor Trevor, an old friend of Sherlock's" stated to John.

"That's impossible, Sherlock didn't have friends, so who the hell are you?" John proclaimed, slightly raising his voice. Victor's eyes widened at John's outburst. Before John could get any angrier, Sherlock shuffled forward and grabbed John's arm.

"John, it's true. This is Victor, we went to university together. He _was_ my friend" Sherlock quietly answered. Seeing Sherlock's apprehension at the situation, he turned placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and looked at his face.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" John hinted to Sherlock, glancing over his shoulder to the man still stood in the doorway. It was almost like talking to a small child.

"No, its okay, I'd rather speak to him. Alone" replied Sherlock.

John simply nodded, turned on his heel and strode down the stairs and through the door slamming it on his way out.

"It's not like you to go for the dominant men" stated Victor.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked gritted though his teeth. Victor took an experimental step towards Sherlock in order to gage his response. Sherlock was still, not daring to move, not daring to give this man any advance over his not again.

"I want you. I'm dying, Sherlock. Brain aneurysm Didn't even realise until I watched a documentary about it on television and decided to go the doctors because my symptoms were the same. Death makes one think about all they have done in life. All the regrets they have made through out their lives. My biggest regret was you, I didn't treat you right. I guess what I'm saying is, I want another chance. Please will you be with me?" suggested Victor. His little speech sounded far too rehearsed. For years after university, Sherlock had always wondered if things had been differently between them what could of become of them. Together they were a destructive couple; there had been far too much violence in the relationship, it was a good thing Mycroft had intervened, Sherlock probably would of been dead if he had not. Victor left his print on Sherlock in the form of drugs. Before Victor had left him, he had gotten him hooked on cocaine. Being Sherlock's only friend at the time, he was able to manipulate Sherlock, pile on peer-pressure until Sherlock followed him.

"No, now please leave" Sherlock calmly answered him.

"I don't think you quite understand Sherlock, all I've ever thought about was you for all these years, and I cannot leave here without you" Victor hissed, while raising a hand hovering over Sherlock's cheekbones not quite touching him. Sherlock could not allow himself to be fooled by this jerk again, he had John now. That was all he needed.

"Do you want John to find out about your past?" asked Victor, snapping Sherlock out of his mini day dream. That was the one thing Sherlock did not want John knowing about his life. He did not John to know how bad drugs had gripped his life.

"You can stay here for a couple of days but that's it, I want you gone by the weekend. Plus I don't want you to mention anything to John. Do I make myself clear?" Sherlock commanded, keeping his face straight.

"Crystal" Victor slimly replied while glancing up and down Sherlock's slender figure.

* * *

John had received a text from Sherlock about an hour after he had left the flat asking him to come home. Reading the text over and over again John felt slightly worried, Sherlock had never asked to come home before. He would normally inform John that he was an idiot before demanding he return along with some items he wanted for a future experiment. Draining the last of his pint, John placed the empty glass on the bar in front of the bartender, dropped a £10 note next to it, muttering 'keep the change' at the man before swiftly turning around and sweeping out the door back to Baker Street.

* * *

Approaching their door after practically running up those steps, John came to a halt before the door noticing that it was far to silent on the inside. 'M_aybe they have killed each other'_ thought John, that idea sent a shiver down his spine the thought of finding Sherlock dead was not nice at all. Cautiously John entered the room, only to see Victor sat on the sofa, while Sherlock was sat opposite both drinking tea with not a single word being uttered between them - How British.

"Still here then?" sneered John in Victor's direction, this earned a slight grin from Sherlock at John's hostility towards the man.

"Did Sherlock not inform you? I shall be staying for a few days" Victor simply replied unnerved by John's aggressiveness.

John's eyes darted straight to Sherlock, in hope that the posh git was not staying in their flat. Sherlock merely stared back at him, not even offering an answer for this. The room went silent again. This was going to be a awkward few days, there was going to be much forced conversation. Giving up with the situation, John walked into the kitchen to grab himself a pint of water to chase away the dizziness from the drink. Stepping back into the living, John confronted the sleeping problem head on.

"Sherlock, where is Victor going to sleep?" This grabbed Sherlock's attention, he hadn't actually thought about that. Damn it.

"Victor you can have my bed, I don't sleep much anyway" Victor only nodded in reply to this.

_So Sherlock is not coming to bed then. Guess this prat doesn't know about me and him then. _John mentally judged. Well screw this, he was going to get some shut eye, with or without Sherlock by his side.

"Well goodnight, you too. Don't make to much noise" muttered John in no particular direction as he shifted towards the stairs leading to his room.

Both the remaining men listened to John creak up the stairs. Victor broke the quietness in the atmosphere first.

"Well I better be getting some sleep as well, see you tomorrow morning. Darling" smiled Victor as he got up from his sitting position from the sofa and walked over to Sherlock to stroke the hair from his forehead. Sherlock slightly leaned into the gesture, only slightly. Sherlock dismissed it as a unconscious reaction from when John stroked him like that. Sherlock watched as Victor strode toward Sherlock's room, just like old times. Letting out a sigh, he had been holding, Sherlock let his body relax into the chair, while slowly shutting his eyes.

* * *

Sherlock awoke to the smell of bacon, turning his stiff neck to the kitchen he observed the back of John, and watched him cook his breakfast, as the kettle rattled from boiling. Begrudgingly Sherlock hauled himself up from the chair, stretched his muscles and wandered over to John to put his arms around him. Sherlock slowly sucked John's earlobe in between his lips, moving down to his neck, lazily licking his neck in small circle shapes.

"You didn't come to bed last night" commented John.

"I'm sorry John. I'll make it up to you" whispered Sherlock as he turned John's face towards him in order to kiss him with more excitement. Grabbing onto John's hips to steady himself, Sherlock made the kiss more passionate and heated by increasing the speed and intensity. Sherlock regrettably pulled away as he heard Victor rising from his room. Sherlock made his way over to the table, quickly giving John one last chase kiss before sitting down at the table while arranging himself under the table, he didn't want Victor to see him half-hard. Knowing Victor he'd probably pounce on him given half the chance.

Breakfast was an awkward affair. They ate in wordless silence. The only noise in the room was Sherlock pushing his food around his plate in hopeless abandonment. Giving up on the boring process of eating, Sherlock excused himself in order to go to the bathroom and get a quick shower. Leaving the two men from his past and current life to entertain themselves in the kitchen.  
John quickly finished, leaving his plate on the side, any excuse to get out of the kitchen away from that git. John knew there was something between him and Sherlock, he just couldn't figure out what. They couldn't of been lovers, Sherlock was a virgin when he had been with John. Or at least John had fought so, unless Sherlock had lied to him. He wouldn't do that, _would he_? John quickly dismissed this idea. What ever it was between those two, John would find out.

Reading the morning paper, John waited for Sherlock to finish his shower.

Just under half an hour later Sherlock graced the living room in a fresh suit, looking like he was ready to face the day.

"Right I'm just popping down the shops, is there anything you need?" John announced looking towards Sherlock for an answer, however it was Victor who answered.

"Well if you are going in that direction, I'd be ever so grateful if you could pick these up for me" Victor gestured to the list he had just pulled out of pocket. John snatched the list from him, looking at it as if it had offended him. John's eyes narrowed towards Sherlock for a moment.

"Nothing for me, John"indicated Sherlock. With this John pulled his jacket on, checking he had his keys and wallet and made his way out the door.

Sherlock was suddenly hyper aware he was alone with Victor, he didn't know how far Victor would push this. As if on cue, Victor rose from the chair in the kitchen and paraded himself over to Sherlock's standing form.

"By the way, you may want to change your sheets. I had an interesting dream about you last night" Victor smirked.

"I was fucking you, over the table. God you were gagging for it, begging for it like a whore" continued Victor, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip.

Sherlock could only stare at Victor as he described the dream. A single shudder ran down Sherlock's spine, he should feel aroused by this. He wanted John, not Victor.

Without any notice, Victor surged forward and captured Sherlock's lips with his, at the same time reaching up and tangling his fingers though Sherlock's raven black curls, Sherlock remained motionless. Hands at his sides,still.

"Forgot my phone" proclaimed John as he cantered into the flat, eyes immediately falling onto Sherlock and Victor.


	9. Chapter 9

John couldn't believe his eyes. This was something he had never expected to happen nor witness. He was paralysed to the spot, he just didn't know how to react the situation. John eyes locked with Sherlock's. In that instant, Sherlock could almost see, in fact hear John's heart breaking.

Sherlock shoved Victor off of him, the other man hit the sofa like a sack of potatoes, his back whacking against the front of the sofa, that would leave a bruise. Sherlock eyes faltered between John and Victor, while Victor only stared at the floor.

"John please, I know it sounds cliché but it's really not what it looks like" Sherlock quickly divulged. With that John took three consecutive steps towards Sherlock, pulled his hand into a fist and snapped it in Sherlock's face, missing the cheekbones but aiming straight for the nose. Sherlock stumbled back a few paces clutching his nose with both hands, looking horrified and shocked at John's action.  
John turned towards Victor.

"You can fucking have him" spat John towards the man still sat on the floor. John stalked out the room and back out the front door again.

The silence was thick in the flat. Blood was dripping from Sherlock's nose, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about right was John. John who had just walked out the door. John who Sherlock didn't know was coming back or not. Sherlock didn't know whether to cry right then and there or get angry at Victor, or even get angry at himself. Sherlock felt like a piece of him and just been torn out from him and stamped on. Flexing his fists and pacing the flat, Sherlock for the first time ever couldn't think. To top it all off that prick was still sat on the floor or his flat. That was it.

Crouching down besides Victor, Sherlock carefully and coherently muttered to him, "I think you better get the fuck out my flat, and if you don't not even a entire police force will be able to find your body. Leave now, if you come back you will be going straight out the window onto 's bins. Got it?"

Victor nodded, acknowledging Sherlock's threat. Tugging himself up from the wooden slacked floor, Victor brushed off his clothes with his hands and wandered towards the door, trying to keep his head up and shoulders straight, just like the slime-ball he always was. Sherlock let his breathe he had been holding out though his mouth, his nose too delicate to breathe though. His heart was still beating fast, too much adrenalin coursing though his veins from being caught. Well it was wasn't really being caught, he hadn't done anything wrong, he just had to let John know this fact as well. Sherlock set about bombarding John's mobile with texts, ranging from '_Please come home_' to '_Please let me explain everything_' and of course the '_I love you' _texts. John wasn't replying to a single one of them, this only increased Sherlock's anxiety levels, this was the danger moments when he knew he could make the pain go away with a simple push of a needle's plunger into his arm, if only.

* * *

It had been 2 days now. 2 days of John still not coming home, and 2 days of Sherlock crying into a pillow with John's scent still lingering on it. It had also been 2 days of Mycroft watching his brother's heart break over the hidden cameras in the flat. After observing Sherlock become a total recluse, Mycroft feared it would not be long until his brother turned to the drugs for comfort again, Mycroft could not let that happen. Sherlock might think of him as a interfering busy-body but he would do anything to help his little brother even if it involved kidnapping.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at Mycroft's country home by mid-morning after being rudely pulled out of his bedroom by Mycroft's men against his will, he was taken to what Sherlock recognized as the guest bedroom which he used during his withdrawal all them years ago, he sat on the poster-bed and waited as the door was locked behind him.

Moments later Sherlock could hear voices approaching the door, as it got closer he could hear John's voice, shouting at whoever was with him. The door handle turned sharply, Sherlock's head quickly snapped toward the area of the door to see two men entry both holding each of John's arms. Both their eyes met, Sherlock noticed John's face; bags under the eyes obviously tired, reddening of the eyes and dried moisture tracks down the man's cheeks. John had been crying recently. That made Sherlock feel physically sick.

Pushing John fully into the room, the other minions left locking the door behind them.

"What is the meaning of this?" hissed John.

"Don't blame me. It's probably Mycroft's idea of an attempt to get us to talk" Sherlock retorted back at the doctor.

The room entered into silence. John stepped towards the window to check the locks; tightly locked. Then John had a idea, he picked up once the lamp stand and tried to use it to smash the window, no luck it only bounced off.

"Don't bother John. It's impact resistant glass plus it's locked. Mycroft did love to disguise this prison cell as a normal looking room" stated Sherlock.

"What are you on about?" asked John.

"This room was the place Mycroft locked me up during my withdrawal from drugs. He had the sense to improve the features and fitting of the room so I couldn't escape" gestured Sherlock pointing his hands towards different areas of the room.

Acknowledging the answer, the room once again fell into silence. Both men were waiting for the other to say something. It was Sherlock who took the first step.

"Look John, please let me explain somethings. Mycroft won't let us out until we at least probably talk to one another" expressed Sherlock.

John only nodded in agreement. Taking a deep breath Sherlock was ready to tell John every little detail, every secret he had kept. He needed John to understand. But most of all he needed John to forgive him.

"I met Victor back in university. He had always had a hold over me, I can't explain how he does it. He threatened to tell you about my past, things I couldn't bear for you to find out but I guess it kind of defeats the object seeing as I'm telling you everything now" Sherlock paused to take another deep breath when John interrupted.

"I already know about the drugs" said John.

"Yes I know, but you don't know everything and I think I should tell you now. You have a right to know. I didn't have any friends in uni, I guess that's why I was so eager to keep Victor close. I was desperate to keep him happy. He was the one who got me hooked on the drugs. It started off with cannabis, it was fine for a while but Victor wanted to try harder drugs. He pressured me into trying cocaine with him, stupidly I followed, I should of been able to stay no but I was weak" tears were steadily streaming down Sherlock's face. John only watched him speak. Sherlock continued recalling his past.

"Victor made me feel special in the moments when he wasn't high. During the day he would call me brilliant, amazing and by nighttime he call me a freak, psycho just like everyone at uni did to me"

John recoiled, feeling empathy for Sherlock. John made a mental note to morally wound Victor next time he saw him.

"Mycroft found out I was using. He cut my money off leaving me dependent on Victor. Victor's response was to make me work for the drugs, and by work I mean sex" Sherlock's voice faltered on the last word.

"Victor hired me out to men, I agreed. The drugs had me hook, all I could think about was my next fix and pleasing Victor's wishes. I was effectively a male prostitute"

John winced at the last sentence but didn't say anything, he continued to listen to Sherlock.

"He wanted me to be with him. He is dying John, he said he regretted what he had done to me and wanted us to be together. I told him no. I wanted you John. Victor threatened to tell you after I rejected him so I let him stay, I couldn't let him tell you, as I lead to believe I was a virgin, I've deleted many of the details from my encounters of those men. But I swear on my life, I didn't know he was going to kiss me. Please you have to believe me" Sherlock pleaded with John, getting down on his knees in front of him and clutching onto his jeans like a small child.

John could only stand there and take in what Sherlock has said, running over every detail imagining Sherlock in his uni years. Tears began to sting his eyes, he simply stared down at Sherlock's dark head which was shaking as the detective was crying. John began to speak.

"Sherlock, let go of my leg" John tried to shake the taller man of him. Sherlock almost wailed in response but let go, letting the rest of his body crumple onto the floor. John dropped to his knees besides Sherlock and pulled him onto his chest, cradling him.

"shh, Sherlock it's okay" John sighed while gently rocking Sherlock back and forth.

John pulled Sherlock up on to the bed, Sherlock only held onto John tighter as the doctor hauled the both of them onto the comfortable sheets. Sherlock had decreased crying, he was trying to control his breathing. John softly rubbed Sherlock's upper arm in a calming motion. All the tears had worn them both out considerably, both men fell asleep clinging on to one another.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello there Kt here. Just wanted to say WOW, I'v had such a great response from this story from you guys and I'm so appreciative. I really didn't expect so many people to read it, follow it and favourite it.  
Also seeing as I'm home ill, I might as well update for you guys. **

**In reply to PeanutVictory: I'm sorrryyyy! I'll give them some sexy time just to make it up to you. :) **

* * *

Two men bustling though the bedroom door woke John and Sherlock up from their deep sleep, one of the men was pushing a buffet cart while the other was carrying a coffee pot which couldn't fit onto the cart. Both men were dressed in dark suits accompanied by white tie around aprons.

"Breakfast from Mycroft" announced one of the men, and with that the two workers were gone, closing the door quietly behind them.

John sat up, back resting against the headboard while Sherlock simply commented, "Both married to women while having an affair with each other, interesting". Sherlock's deductions never failed to amuse John. He was eager to let Sherlock have his fun.

"Okay, how could you possible know that?" John grilled while brushing the back of Sherlock's head. Sherlock launched into a deep speech over his observations to John.

"Simple. Mycroft likes his employees to be married, a significant other comes in handy if an employee tried to go against him. Both men had modern weddings rings where the name of the partner had been etched onto the band. However the second man had recently removed his ring, but you could still see the indentation of the partners name on his finger, while with the first man has his partner's name etch on the exterior of the ring. Add that to the fact both their eyes dilated when ever they look at each other and also the creases on their trousers would show us that they have recently had sexual contact with each other while being married"

"You are utter amazing" commented John.

John leaned over to the detective and brushing his lips over his temple in a light kiss, nothing to dynamic after Sherlock's confession last night. John's body stiffened remembering last night. He once against made sure to make a mental note, or even talk to Mycroft about killing that bastard Victor. Sensing John's change in body language, Sherlock pushed himself closer to John in attempt to stop him from thinking about last nights events. Sherlock practically mounted John, kissing every inch of John's face, much like an over excited puppy seeing it's master after a long day. John pulled Sherlock further into him by grabbing hold of his hips, not enough to bruise him however. John was just about to feel a stirring sensation in his lower abdomen when Sherlock's stomach growled loud enough to make John stop and giggle like a schoolgirl while Sherlock clutched at it trying to make it stop.

"I think someone is hungry" smiled John.

Waving his arms in defeat, Sherlock got off of John and lightly jumped of the bed and walked to the buffet cart. He poured John a cup of coffee adding just the right amount of milk for him and carefully passed it over to the him. He then proceeded to sniff at the rest of the food before settling on some fruit for himself and chocolat du pain, which he knew were on of John's favorites. They began to eat in silence, neither one taking their eyes of each other. They both ate at the same speed, carefully chewing and swallowing their food like they were both delaying leaving and stepping back out into the reality of the world around them.

John drained the last of his coffee, leaving the remains of his breakfast on the cart and straighten up clothing up. Sherlock followed suit, mimicking John's actions. John nodded to Sherlock and with that they were both on their way out the door in order to get back to Baker Street.

Sherlock had arranged with one of Mycroft's men for a ride home, moment later a slick black Mercedes rolled up besides them. The driver stepped out, opening the door for John and Sherlock. Once inside and belted up, they both sat in silence. The car's engine purred as the driver pushed to start it up. John watched out the window as the countryside passed, greens and browns flew past his vision. He became lost in the scenery trying to capture the landscape before the car past it. On the other side of the car Sherlock was unsure of how to approach the situation, he had told John everything about him and his hidden past, and had not been rejected by him. So why couldn't Sherlock strike up a simple conversation with the man? He felt like soon all of this would soon be shattered John would change his mind and leave Sherlock alone again. Sherlock knew he was becoming far to paranoid, but he couldn't help it. Past experience had always taught Sherlock that all good things come to an end soon enough.

John glanced over to Sherlock to see the worry in the other man's eyes. He placed his hand over Sherlock's smoothed his callous fingers over Sherlock's pale palm to reassure Sherlock that he was still here and was not going to leave him ever. Sherlock glowed from the gesture, beaming up towards John. Both men in that moment were both truly happy.

* * *

Countryside soon turned into large office buildings, traffic and tourists. Finally the car turned the corner entry Baker Street, the car came to a halt just outside Speedy's cafe. The two men exited and step towards the thick black door. John managed to push the door open with minimal effort., twisting the keys out of the door on his way past.

John jogged up the stairs to the flat, as Sherlock followed. Both men wriggled out their coats hanging them up on the coat rack. Treading into the kitchen John went to make a pot of tea for them both. He could feel Sherlock following him once again like a lost puppy. Sherlock snaked his hands though John's arms, hugging him closely. Placing his head over John shoulder, he squeed him ever so gently to show the other man how much he needed him. Hugging John's jumper pretty much felt like hugging a teddy bear, this gave Sherlock more comfort that the man wasn't going to leave him any-time soon.

Sherlock hooked his hand under John's jumper, skimming his abdomen. John pushed himself back onto the touch. The taller man began to compassionately kiss John's neck, swiping his tongue across the flesh tasting John's scent. John turned himself to Sherlock for easier access. Both men let their natural impulses take over, they crushed their lips together in a bruising act. John greedily sucked on Sherlock's cupid bow lips which dragged a moan from deep inside his chest. Using both hands on Sherlock's chest, John pushed him back still kissing him until the other man's legs hit the front of the sofa causing Sherlock to fall backwards, John toppled on to him, neither one breaking the kiss still. Sherlock unzipped John's jeans and dipped his hand into John's boxer, brushing past the patch of hair between John's legs. John bucked towards Sherlock in the aid for more friction. John also copied the action, unzipping Sherlock's suit trousers and pushing his hand back the band of the boxers. Both men had taken the other in hand. Both of them were fondling with the other. The action was to constrained, pulling down the rest of their trousers both the men had more space to move. They pushed their cocks against each other, searching for that much needed friction. Bodily fluids from each other mixed, creating a lubricated surface. Sherlock could the tight coil in his stomach begin to clench, any moment now and he would be shouting out John's name. John could feel it too, like they were both connected in this instant. Eyes blown wide open, both came with the other man's name on their lips, milking each other. John couldn't hold himself up any longer, he let his arms drop and laid on top of Sherlock. As John drifted off into post cortisol bliss he swore he could of heard Sherlock say something.

**_I love you. _**

With that Sherlock fell asleep himself, absolutely happy.

* * *

**Hope this chapter was good enough for you guys! **

**Reviews are welcomed and appreciated! **

**Also if you have any ideas, comments or prompts you can find me over on Tumblr at either brokehisactionman or elementarysherlocked **

**Have a good day, Kt. :D **


	11. Chapter 11

John and Sherlock's relationship had progressed leaps and bounds since Sherlock told him the truth about his past. The next glitch in their relationship came when John took Sherlock to meet the parents. In other relationship this would be seen as a massive commitment step, however with them it was rather a case of John trying to keep Sherlock from being bored while at the same time coming out as _sherlocked_ man (_John was not gay only sherlocked, _as matter of fact_). _During the train trip into the country John pre-warned Sherlock on correct behaviour around his parents. Sherlock knew John's parents had no idea they were in a relationship. But never the less, Sherlock agreed to John's demands; Good behaviour or no tea or sex. Sherlock promised, anything but that!

Sherlock watched out the window as his territory of London disappeared and green fields replaced concrete roads and glass buildings. Coming out into the countryside always made Sherlock feel uneasy. He preferred the bright life of London, the countryside only reminded him of his withdrawal from drugs. He didn't want to be like that ever again. Sherlock became lost deep in thought. He only registered that John had interlaced their fingers when John had lightly moved his hand to get a better grip. They sat in silence as John subconsciously rubbed circles onto the back of Sherlock's hand.

As the train pulled into the station, John jostled Sherlock into grabbing his bags as they prepared to exit the carriage.

* * *

John became more and more agitated as time passed, the jitteriness was radiating off of him. It didn't help that Sherlock needed constant supervision so that he didn't piss anyone off or got himself into trouble. Seriously John didn't know how this man survived with out him sometimes.

As Sherlock hailed a taxi, John dropped his bags on the concrete floor and stretched his aching shoulder. Sherlock gave him a warm smile as he took the bags that were slumped at John feet and piled them into the boot of the taxi. It wasn't long now until John would face his parents. Both men entered the vehicle and rested against the fabric of the seats as the driver slammed the car door shut for them.

Pulling up to a detached house in a small town, the taxi came to a halt. John's heart rate quicken the moment had arrived. All the courage he had as soldier had disappeared as soon as he saw the curtains of his parent's house twitch. Sherlock was already out of the taxi and waiting for John to pull himself together.

_'I can do this. I invaded Afghanistan for fuck sake' _John mentally shouted at himself.

John pushed the car door open with more force than was really necessary. He stood next to Sherlock and gave him a silent nod. Sherlock handed John his bags and waited for John to make the first move to the house. John turned sharply and proceeded to the white wooden door, knocking three times he took a deep breath and hovered while his parents made it to the door. With a creak, John's father had prised the door open wide.

"Oh John dear, it is so good to see you. It's been far too long" declared John's mother from behind her husband. John's father stepped aside so that his wife to greet John properly.

"John, you didn't say you were bringing a friend with you?" she questioned her son.

"Doesn't matter come in both of you, I'll get dinner started for all of us" continued .

All four of them walked into the living of the house, John's father sat in only single chair while both Sherlock and John perched on the sofa. They waited for John's mother to come back from the kitchen, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits.

"It's finally great to meet you Mr and Mrs Watson" commented Sherlock as he was passed a teacup.

"Please, call us Jane and Christopher. We will have to make up the spare bedroom for you later, dear" smiled Jane.

"That won't be necessary mum. Sherlock and I are together" stated John. He hadn't mean to say it only think it, but it had slipped out and now the room was silent. John mentally kicked himself for not paying attention.

Christopher and Jane stared open-mouthed at Sherlock as if he had corrupted their son. Jane let the cup slip from her hands, it hit the floor with a muffled clatter as the rest of the tea from the cup was spilt across the cream coloured carpet, soaking into the fibres. Christopher made a slight coughing noise. Well this was certainly awkward.

"You could of given us some warning, son" expressed Christopher.

John hung his head. This shouldn't feel guilty for this, love should matter whether the other person is a man or a women. It wasn't his fault that both he and his sister preferred the same sex.

"Least we have saved you the trouble of making up the spare room" joked Sherlock. Suddenly Sherlock had three pairs of eyes boring into him. This certainly wasn't the time to be messing around.

"Why don't you take your stuff up stairs boys" suggested Jane as an attempt to end the awkwardness.

Following her order both John and Sherlock placed their cups down on the tray, stepped out of the room and jogged up the stairs with their bags. John directed Sherlock to a room towards the back of the house. Wrenching the door open both men lumbered into the tight room that was once John's childhood bedroom. Sherlock gently shut the down behind him. Thank god John had a double bed at least. Sherlock reached out to grab John's hand. He pulled the other man closer to him and hugged him while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. John smiled into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock kissed John on the forehead and started to unpack his things. Just below them John's parents could be heard arguing over their son being gay. John tried to not let it affect him. He had Sherlock that was all he needed in life, fuck what his parents thought.

Deciding to have it out with his parents, John quickly excused himself from the room and left Sherlock to unpack he didn't want him getting mixed up in his families business as John of all people knew how horrendous his father could be.

* * *

Sherlock and pulled the last item of clothing out of his bag and had stuff it into one of John's drawers. Pushing the bag under the bed he went to go find John. Sherlock crept down the stairs barely making a noise. He could hear raised voices coming from the kitchen, observing the corridor he saw that the door was slightly ajar so instead of announcing his present he decided to eavesdrop. Sherlock could distinctly hear Christopher's voice.

"Now I don't know if you are following in your sisters disgraceful footsteps but there is no way I raised my son to be gay. Even so, why him? What the hell were you thinking bringing your posh boyfriend here. By the looks of him one of his suits would be worth more than this whole house. Is that why you brought him here, to show off your new toy? What are you some sort of gold-digger?" hissed Christopher.

Sherlock couldn't hear John reply at all, almost as if John was accepting everything his father was shouting at him. There was a pause in the conversation, then John spoke.

"I'm sorry dad. I have shamed you'" cried John.

"You will not take part in any homosexual acts while you are under my roof. That man is a freak a utter weirdo Of all the people in the world you chose a faggot" hissed Christopher back at John.

"Yes father" John answered in defeat, there would be no reasoning with his father who was set in his tradition old ways.

With that Sherlock pushed the rest of the door to the kitchen open and stood there looking both shocked and angry.

"Well John if you are going to stand there and let your father say derogatory rubbish and not defend yourself or I, I better go" stated Sherlock, raising his voice.

John's face fell. He had no idea Sherlock had heard all of that. No idea that Sherlock currently thought John wasn't going to defend him. John knew he should of at least put up some sort of a fight with his dad. Before he could answer, Sherlock had already taken off and was out the front door.

John's phone vibrated, he pulled it out to read the new message;

_Just to hear you agree with your father that I am a freak is just inexcusable. Don't bother coming back to Baker Street. -SH_

John's world had just fallen apart once again in just a matter of weeks.

* * *

**Hey there, hope you enjoy this latest chapter as angsty as it is. **

**Remember**** you can find me on Tumblr over at brokehisactionman or elementarysherlocked if you want to talk to me, ask questions or whatever. **

**Love all of you, **

**Kt x**


	12. Chapter 12

Fuck. Shit. Bollocks.

John hadn't meant for Sherlock to hear all of that but there really was no reasoning with John's father, Christopher. Christopher Watson was a bigoted man set in old traditional ways who would not be hauled into the 21st Century attitude of thinking easily. John couldn't help it that his father thought a man loving and having sexual relations with another man was totally wrong, the concept was alien to him. But now John's reluctance to stand up to his father had cost him his relationship with Sherlock. John absolutely needed to fix this.

John took the stairs two at a time and burst into his room. Sherlock stuff was still here, surely Sherlock would need to at least come back for it before leaving for London then he could see him and explain everything to him in order to restore their relationship. Wait, Sherlock had his wallet and phone on him, he didn't need anything else to get back to London.

No. No. No.

Pulling the bags out from under the bed, John stuffed the articles of clothing that had been carefully placed in the drawers not less than an hour ago back into the bags, not caring for creases. John could hear his father thundering up the stairs and towards his room. The next thing he knew his Father had slammed the door open.

"If you leave this house and go back to that fucking poof bender twat I will disown you" bellowed Christopher towards John's figure which was hunched over packaging furiously.

John straightened immediately, turning into Captain John Watson, shifted slowly to face his father.

"Do you know what? That's just fine by me. I'd rather be with the man I love than here with a colossal cunt like you. Oh and another thing, once I get him back we are going to have the best make up sex. My cock will be buried so deep inside him, I won't even be able to remember my own name when I come inside him" yelled John back at his father.

Oh damn, he done it now. With that reply Christopher jerked forward punching his son right in the face with all the force he could muster. John staggered back hitting the bed. He could feel the blood dripping down his face and across his lips. The rusty tang of his own blood was on his tongue already. It took John a moment to register what was happening. This father had pulled him up his collar and was dragging him down the stairs while he clutching onto his bag. Christopher pushed his son against the wall as he opened the front door. Wrenching the door open, Christopher threw his son out and onto the street, his bag followed after him. John hit the driveway with a crack.

"I have no son!" bawled Christopher, slamming the door excluding his son.

John hauled himself up off the floor, glancing around he noticed the neighbors curtains moving eager for gossip. Fucking typical.

John reached for his bag, gripping it in his left hand and started walking. He pulled out his phone in order to call Sherlock. It went to voice mail on the first ring. So he left a message;

"Sherlock, it's me. Please I just need to see you. Please I just need.." John broke down on the last word, crying down the phone. He hung up. Sitting down on a near by bench he let himself fall apart.

* * *

Sherlock wandered for what seemed like forever. He had no idea where he was going or what he was going do. He was replaying what had happened. He expected homophobic behavior from John's father anyway, but for John not to even defend nor stand up for them and their relationship was beyond bad. Advancing into the town of where John's parents lived, Sherlock found a small hotel to stay in for the night before he made his way to London and back to Baker Street.

Sherlock was checked in by a young women, he was shown to his room and was left in peace. Sherlock let himself sink into the double bed and let tears form in his eyes.

His mobile began to ring. It was John, he couldn't handle him right now so he forwarded the call and waited for it to end.

Sherlock resisted the urge to listen to the new voice mail for a whole hour. The temptation of hearing John's voice was to much, pressing play on his voice mail he listened to John's message.

_"Sherlock, it's me. Please I just need to see you. Please I just need.."_

New tears dropped from Sherlock's face as he heard the message cut off. Thinking about everything they had been though, Sherlock knew he had to at least give John a chance to explain himself seeing as John had done the same for Sherlock all them weeks ago.

Sherlock opened the new message feature and texted John.

_I'm at the Bell Hotel, Room 14 -SH_

* * *

John felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he nearly tore his trousers in his clumsy attempt to pull the phone out of his pocket in hast. He read the message, then read it again and again. Sherlock wanted to see him as well. '_Thank God' _whispered John to himself. Pulling his bag against his back once more he jumped off the bench with new energy and hurried to the hotel in town.

John slowed his pace for a moment, he was becoming out of breath. The hotel came into view, he dashed towards it. He pushed the door open and ran to the stairs of the hotel. Following the signs to where the rooms were on the wall he sprinted to Sherlock's room.

Room 14. He was here and on the other side of the door was Sherlock. His Sherlock. Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door three times. He could hear shuffling from the other side. The door was unlocked slowly as if to torture John, he already felt bad enough. Sherlock yanked the door open and faced John.

They both stared at each other, both their faces showed evidence of crying. Sherlock stepped aside to let John though. John paced into the room and dropped his bag down by the chest of drawers in the room. He twisted to face Sherlock who had gone and sat on the bed.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for everything you heard from my Father and I'm sorry for not defending you from that man" grovelled John, creasing his eyes trying not to break down again.

"Your bleeding" stated Sherlock as a matter of fact. Sherlock leaned forward towards John to lightly touch the drying blood on the other man's face but stopped and quickly withdrew his hand.

"I, uh. Yeah. He punched me and threw me out for _loving_ a man" commented John.

'_Loving_', that word caught Sherlock's attention immediately.

"John as my partner you of all people should know how much being called a freak and other demeaning words effects me, I'm not made of stone as everyone else likes to think" Sherlock uttered quietly

"I didn't defend our relationship because I've seen what his rejection did to Harry. I didn't want him to treat me like that. You weren't meant to hear it. I'm sorry, please give us another chance" begged John getting on to his knees in front of Sherlock.

John waited for Sherlock to say something or give any action of acceptance. He waited and waited.

Sherlock locked eyes with John and nodded slightly. That was all John needed.

Thrusting up John caught Sherlock's lips with his own. His hands entwined themselves in Sherlock's sleek curls, pulling his face closer to John's. The kiss was heated and passionate within a few seconds. Mounting Sherlock, John pushed Sherlock chest back onto the bed. His hands wandered from Sherlock's hair towards his chest, instantly pulling the buttons of his shirt apart. Buttons broke and flew across the room. Stroking his hands across Sherlock's chest his fingers played with nipples, making them hard quickly. Suddenly their positions were flipped. Sherlock was on top of John mimicking his actions. Both were topless, rubbing themselves against each other. John's fingers flew to Sherlock's trouser zip. He yanked his trousers down showing Sherlock how keen he was for him. Sherlock kicked the rest of his clothing off, while almost ripping the remainder of John's clothing off of him.

Soon they were both completely naked, Sherlock licked the dried blood off of John's face. This only made John harder. His cock was straining, reddening in colour. Neither had touched the other's dicks.

John flipped Sherlock on to his back once again. He kissed his way down Sherlock's chest and down his thighs.

"Sherlock we haven't got any condoms or lube" breathed John.

"Don't care. Just fuck me" panted Sherlock. Arousal dripped from his baritone voice.

John coated his fingers with his saliva, wetting them all over to make it easier for Sherlock to take. With out warning he pushed two fingers into Sherlock and let him adjust to the feeling, than began to thrust them in and out of Sherlock's body. He had reduced the detective to a quivering mass which chanted John's name over and over again.

He deemed Sherlock to be stretched enough, he pulled his fingers out and quickly replaced them with his dick. He sunk into Sherlock fast,

_OhGod _John moaned. He tried to bury as much of him as humanly possible inside of Sherlock.

"Move, John. Move" puffed Sherlock as he grasped John's arms.

So John did. He pumped himself in and out of Sherlock hitting his prostate with each thrust. Once again Sherlock called out John's name like it was a prayer.

John seized Sherlock's dick with his left hand and began to wank him off in time with his thrusts. With in minutes both men were coming. Sherlock came over John's hand, his white seed coating John's fingers while John came inside of Sherlock. John collapsed onto Sherlock's chest, Sherlock watched as John greedily sucked the come off of his fingers. Grabbing John's face Sherlock kissed him once again.

"I love you, John" mumbled Sherlock as his eyes began to flutter shut.

Giggling slightly, John whispered the same into Sherlock ear as he drifted into sleep.

"I love you too, Sherlock. Love you unconditionally"

* * *

**Hope you guys like this chapter :) **

**In reply to drjamband, EliMayz, beargirl1393 and SpencerReidFan89: I'm sorryyyyy! I hope all the angst has been made up for in this chapter. **

**Reviews are much welcome, I love hearing what you guys think. Remember you can find me on Tumblr over at brokehisactionman or elementarysherlocked **

**Kt x**

* * *

**Edit: **

**I am so sorry for any mistakes I have not proof read this chapter and was in a hurry to upload. I can not say sorry enough!**

* * *

**Another Edit: **

**I have proof read this, I hope I have corrected all of the mistakes. Thank you for reading! :) **


	13. Chapter 13

During the night Sherlock had manoeuvred his body so that his head was resting on John's chest, he preferred it like this it made him feel safe, secure and most of loved especially when John's sleeping subconscious mind made him cling on tighter to Sherlock.

It was the early hours of the morning, the staff of the hotel were moving around going about their business. Sherlock knew John wouldn't be awake for some time yet, this gave him time to think. He delved into his Mind Palace, finding the entire room he had mentally built for John and inspected every inch of it. He moved pieces of information, re-evaluated some files altering them slightly but never deleting them. He could never get rid of anything even remotely related to John. Sherlock could absolutely one hundred percent say he loved his man. And that was what scared Sherlock the most. Stepping out of John's room he walked down the corridor of his palace to find the room he had built on the subject of love.

Love. What was love?

Sherlock loved John, but he also loved Mrs. Hudson. However he wouldn't have sexual relationship with her. Sherlock understood there were different types of love, but he was unsure of the extent of these types of love. He was pretty sure he hated Mycroft but however he put that down to brotherly hate, not actual 'I'm going to rip your body into pieces and burn it' type of way. Sherlock had also loved Victor but that was different to the love he had for John. John's love was for real unlike the love he had held for Victor, John's love was not built on the need to shoot up. The drugs had clouded Sherlock's mind at the point of his life.

People also killed for love. The thought of harming John sent a cold unpleasant feeling down Sherlock's body. He quickly dismissed that thought. However he knew he would kill on behalf of John. John had certainly done this on the first day they had met, well that cabbie had deserved it.

Could Sherlock see himself marrying John? Well yes, yes he could. Did he want to was another matter all together. Although Sherlock loved him, he couldn't bring himself to marry him, it was a huge commitment. It would be the rest of their lives,. Not that Sherlock didn't want to stay with John, it was because they hadn't been together as a couple for no more than 6 months and had already broken up twice. What if they got married and John decided that he didn't want to be with Sherlock because it was too gay for him? Or what if they had a fight and John wanted a divorce? Because Sherlock they were properly going to have another argument some time in the near future, as they were the total opposite to each other plus it didn't help that Sherlock deemed it suitable to leave various decaying eyeballs around the flat.

The rumble of John's stomach shattered Sherlock's mental palace as it pulled him back to reality. John would soon be awake. Sherlock stretched his legs out right down to his toes much like a domestic cat would. This was enough to wake John from his slumber. John glanced down observing the detective head, trying to guess whether he was asleep or not. The flutter of Sherlock's eyelashes made John realise that his man was wide awake, so much for trying to get Sherlock to sleep for longer periods of time.

John pulled himself out from under Sherlock who gave a whine as John left the warm bed and proceeded to the bathroom to freshen up. The bathroom was adorned in shinny white tiles that caught the light from the window which made everything look brighter than it actually was. John gave a guttering moan as the reflection of light from the décor hurt his eyes. He scampered over to the sink and mirror to inspect his father's handy work on his face. He definitely was a sight for sore eyes. He had deep dark bags under his eyes, specks of dried blood was still on his face forming a light trail from his nose past his lips and over his chin. He was sure his nose was not broken, but damn it hurt to touch it. He hoped it was only slightly bruised and swollen, nothing that a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a cloth couldn't fix. John wiped a wet flannel across his face, removing the remaining dried blood. Touching his nose once again, he was hit with a sharp slinging pain that made him moan uncomfortably. Sherlock had left the bed and was leant against the bathroom door frame observing John look at himself. The moan of pain that left John's lips made Sherlock gasp, he realised that John was only hurt because of him. Sherlock rushed forward in order to cradle John as if his touch would make everything better. Sherlock hugged John, his head against John's shoulder. John leaned into the comforting touch and stroked Sherlock's arm with his left hand to let him know he was okay.

"I'm sorry John; your fight with your father was my fault"

John moved Sherlock off of him in order to face him.

"Don't you dare say that Sherlock. My injuries are his fault not yours. That man is a fool, who has lost both of his children and right now that, is not my problem nor responsibly, I only care for you now" replied John.

Sherlock meekly smile in return, he still feel bad for what had happened, but he knew that they both would be okay and that they would make it though as long as they had each other no matter how cliché it sounded.

"We ought to get a move on, we have a train to catch" stated John as he gently kissed the side of Sherlock's cheek.

Both men gathered their belongings and proceeded to the front desk to pay for the room.

* * *

"Good morning, we liked to check out from room 14 please" asked John to middle aged female behind the desk.

"Room 14 has already been paid for by a Mr. M. Holmes" answered the woman.

"Mycroft" hissed Sherlock with disdain.

John rolled his eyes, grabbed his stuff and filed out the door. John held the door open for his partner, carefully catching a glance of Sherlock's backside as he waltz past him. The doctor and the detective strolled hand in hand towards the train station. John was glad to get away from he town he spent his childhood in, this whole trip had been a disaster, apart from the sex. The sex was great. Smiling at the memory of the sex John clutched Sherlock's hand harder while rubbing small circles into the skin on the back of his hand.

John had left to purchase their tickets, while Sherlock sloped off to get them both coffee. The ticket machine was a self-service.

_For fucks sake_. thought John. He hated these machines. What was wrong with social interaction nowadays, why did everything have to be over a machine. John jammed his card into the holder, within seconds he had no idea was he was doing and was just mashing buttons in an attempt to get the machine to work and give them their tickets.

"Come on you son-of-a-bitch!" yelled John at the inanimate object, snacking the side of the machine with the palm of his hand.

"Arguing with a machine again John? Seriously?" Sherlock leant over John's shoulder, pressed the relevant buttons which made their tickets print out and pulled them from the dispenser.

While John had been getting angry with the machine, the train had already pulled up. Sherlock near enough dragged him onto the train. Both men sat beside each other in the carriage and cuddled each other though out the journey.

* * *

As the trained pulled into the station, the jolt woke up both John and Sherlock who had fallen asleep over each other.

Sherlock carried John's bags for him, so that John could rest his shoulder for a while. The station was only a short distance from Baker Street, so they decided to walk the rest of the way. They made their way though the crowds of tourists and city workers, finally they made it back home. John dipped his hand into Sherlock's suit trousers pocket to pull the house keys out, but cunningly gave Sherlock's crotch a cheeky grope. Oh John was so going to get it as soon as they got though the door. Sherlock dumped the bags by the coat hanger, and grabbed John forcing him to turn around so he could attack his lips with his. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth as he grabbed hold of Sherlock's hips pulling him even more closer.

"Upstairs now" asserted Sherlock. Sherlock hurried up the stairs tugging John with him. Both men crashed through the flat door, kissing each other with heated passion.

A muffled coughed make John and Sherlock realise they were not on their own. Both men detached themselves off of each other in hast, glancing around they viewed their visitor.

"Hello boys" purred Irene with her velvet slick voice.

* * *

**Hello everyone, hope this chapter is okay if there are any mistakes I apologise. Have fun reading :D **

**Kt x **


	14. Chapter 14

At least Irene had her clothes on for once, she was wearing a skin tight red body-con dress with natural tan tights with the added effect of six inch black patent heels with of course a striking red heel to compete the look of a posh hooker. John looked for help from Sherlock. What the hell was she doing here? She was meant to be dead; well that's what John thought.

'It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me' remembering Mycroft's words, John knew Sherlock had some part to play in this, that bastard and he never even told John about it. Oh they were so going to talk about that later after she was gone.

"Sorry was I interrupting something?" inquired Irene licking her bottom lip, eyes widening at the thought of Sherlock and John going at it.

John clenched his fist in anger. The cheek of this woman was unbelievable; how dare she break into their home and then hint at the obvious. This woman needed to go as soon as possible before John broke his number one rule: hitting a woman. Before John got a chance to kick her out the door, Sherlock spoke up;

"Irene either you leave now or I will not hesitate to throw you out!" barked Sherlock towering over the female still sat on the sofa.

She didn't even flinch only shifted slightly to show off her cleavage. Irene dug her heel into the wooden floor as a sign that she would not be moving anytime soon. Her arrogance was irritating to Sherlock he had no idea why he was so interested in her; she wasn't anything special she was boring, dull and tedious. The sooner she was gone the better.

"I need your help Sherlock. There has been a murder. I'm innocent obviously. I just need you to prove it" Irene asked fluttering her eyelashes at him, as if that was going to work on a gay man.

"No. Now if you mind, kindly leave you know where the door is" replied Sherlock turning around. He paced into the kitchen in order to make John and him some tea after a morning of commuting back to London.

Sherlock placed two tea bags with in his and John's favourite mugs, let the kettle finish boiling then poured the steaming liquid into the cups. He let the tea brew for a moment before removing the tea bags and adding a drop of milk to both drinks. Grabbing hold mugs carefully, he walked back to the living room.

"Are you still here?" commented Sherlock as he pushed one of the mugs into John's hand.

The warmth of the tea felt great against John's unclenched palm. John eyes narrowed back at Irene who was annoyingly still here.

"Sherlock I'm not leaving until you help me" Irene barked back raising her voice towards the end of her statement.

"I've helped you enough already, don't you think?" retorted Sherlock.

What the hell was wrong with this female? Sherlock had already saved her from near certain death what more could she ask for?

Huffing in defeat Irene proceeded to attempt a tactic that she had never used before; beg.

"Sherlock I need you. Please" her eyes watered as she asked for help from the detective.

Irene looked genuine in this request. Sherlock could almost see the scared girl that lay inside of Irene's personality. Observing this made Sherlock feel guilty, maybe he should help her it would mean she would out of their lives quicker. Before Sherlock could answer John commented on the situation.

"Oh for goodness sake, just take the case I know you are dying too" huffed John as he put the rest of his tea down and walked out the room and went to his room.

That shocked Sherlock, he guessed John was just feeling agitated because of Irene's presence in their home.

* * *

John came down from his room when his stomach had growled to the point of pure hunger and pain. As he entered the living room he noticed that both Irene and Sherlock were sat in silence not saying a single word.

"I'll cook us some dinner then?" ask John, neither answered. John strode into the kitchen in order to prepare food for all three of them.

The smell of heated soup pulled Sherlock from the living room to the kitchen, he observed had John heated the mixture constantly stirring it. Sherlock was fascinated by John. Sherlock snuggled up to John's body while pacing small kissed over the back of John's neck. John dishes up three bowls of soup while Sherlock moved parts of his old experiments off of the table to make room for all three of them. Irene saunter into the kitchen area as soon as John had placed her bowl in front of her. Dinner was a awkward affair, they ate in silence while John and Irene glared daggers at each other. Sherlock broke the quiet atmosphere.

"Irene tell us what happened. And try not to be dull about it" stated Sherlock

"I've been running an illegal brothel in London. Well a girl has to make money some how. Basically one of my customers who had booked me for the night died in the room. That's all I can say really. One moment he was alive the next he was dead after staring out the window. I thought he died of fright but I know something else is going on here. Obviously I can't go to the authorities, so I've come to you instead" replied Irene while she hooked her heel up to stoke Sherlock's leg with it.

Sherlock backed away from the table.

"We will view the crime scene tomorrow. You may stay here for the night" answered Sherlock.

With that the lanky detective strode out of the room leaving Irene and John together. If looks could kill Irene certainly would be dead. John followed Sherlock out of the kitchen in order to have a quiet word with him away from the woman.

"Where the hell is she meant to sleep?" asked John, gesturing back at the kitchen door way.

"She can have my room obviously"

"Oh. Obviously" replied John.

Both men left Irene to her own business while they went to bed. Sherlock needed his rest in order to start his new case but also because of that pounding he had took from John last night, the man had him shattered afterwards. Although Sherlock blamed the high emotions of the situation that cause this extreme fatigue. Sherlock crawled into John's bed with him, pulling the covers up around his shoulders. John's body was to much of a temptation for Sherlock, after a lazy hand job from each man to the other, they both fell asleep wrapped in each other.

* * *

Sherlock woke around 3 am, he could hear Irene's voice. She was talking to someone. Although Sherlock couldn't make out the words to her conversation he could however distinctly hear the tone of her voice, she was angry at someone. The ever inquisitive Sherlock decided to descend the stairs in an attempt to find out what was going on. Taking the stairs two at a time to minimise the creakiness of the steps he slowly made his way towards the sitting room where Irene was pacing. She threw her phone across the floor in annoyance. Sighing heavily, she noticed Sherlock's figure in the door way.

"Didn't you Mother ever teach you it's rude to sneak up on a lady?" Irene asked with a slight flirty under tone to her voice.

"You aren't a lady" Sherlock simply replied to her as he pushed past her towards the sofa.

Irene smiled at his comment, she knew he was right. She circled him as he sat on the sofa much like an animal circling it's prey. She tiptoed towards him until she was stood right in front of him. Sherlock noticed that Irene had changed her clothing. She was now wearing a black satin nightgown that accompanied her dark pinned hair and the lightness of her skin. Irene passed her legs either side of Sherlock's legs. Her waist was eye level with Sherlock. He glanced up at Irene's face. Her features were exasperated by the street light pouring though the gap in the curtains. She casually raised a hand towards Sherlock's face, caressing the left side of his face.

"Why him and not me?" she asked, bottom lip quivering slightly.

Her question stunned Sherlock. He didn't expect her to ask something like that. He gave himself a moment to think before answering.

"John is my whole world. I lost interest in you once you betrayed my trust. I see you for what you really are; a girl haunted by the decisions she has made in her life" rasped Sherlock.

Irene put up no defence to Sherlock's words, he was right as always. Irene pushed herself away from the man she once desired and dragged herself back to bed.

* * *

John awoke to the sound of Sherlock getting dressed, not that he minded the view. Noticing John had been awoken, Sherlock threw some pieces of clothing at him. All three of them were due to journey to Irene's brothel today. John knew it was going to be a long day.

After both men were dressed they met Irene outside in the cab. John watched as Irene leant though the window of the taxi to whispered the address to the ear of the driver. Heaven forbid any man that could be tempted by that women. Climbing into the back of the cab, all three buckled up as the engine jutted to life and the buildings and traffic flew by.

It was an hour before they reached the address the rest of on foot, it seemed that running a brothel was more affective if near by residents had no idea what was on their front door step.

They arrived at a old fashioned weathered stone building, the darkened windows were symmetrical on each side of the building. This was nothing like the brothels in Amsterdam.

As they stepped inside they were were greeted by a line of young females who grinned at them eagerly thinking they were news customers.

One of the females stepped out from the line to speak to Irene.

"Good morning Miss Adler, how may we help you and your friends here?" bantered the young woman.

"Show Mr. Holmes and Dr. John Watson to room 10 please, Lily" ordered Irene slipping into her dominatrix role and leader of the brothel.

Lily nodded and lead the way to the room where the previous customer had died. Unlocking the door she gestured them inside and left them to it. John stood to the side of the room out of the way while Sherlock observed every detail of the room. John watched as Sherlock got down on his knees to inspect the floorboards he then proceeded to pull off the bedsheets and sniffed the furniture Sherlock stepped towards the window where the man had died while staring out the window.

John's ears picked up a low buzzing noise, he had realised what had killed the man and worst of all it was about to kill Sherlock.

* * *

**Hope you guys like this chapter and the little cliff hanger there. If there's any mistakes in this chapter, I am sorry. **

**Have fun reading!**

**Any reviews or comments are much appreciated, I look forward to hearing from you guys. Feedback is always welcome. Love you guys :D **

**Don't forget I'm always over on Tumblr at brokehisactionman or elementarysherlocked **

**Kt x **


	15. Chapter 15

Panic rose up from John's stomach as he threw himself forward to get Sherlock out the way of danger. Colliding with Sherlock's body both flew across the room away from the window. Hitting the floor Sherlock wheezed as John landed across his chest, pushing all the air from his lungs in an instant.

"John what are you doing?" coughed Sherlock as he tried to right himself

"Saying your life you idiot. You missed it and it could have killed you. That section of floorboard has been electrified and you were about to step on it. Look the floor it looks like it's riddled with woodworm however when you step on it BOOM electric shock. Follow the buzzing noise back to its source and you will find the on switch for it" divulged John, gesturing towards the floor with a pointed finger.

Sherlock just stared at him wide eyed and shocked, John had once again saved his life. How could Sherlock of been so stupid. Missing the signs was a error that only a fool could make. Sherlock's face dropped into his cold hard mask, which he used in most situations. The case has not been fully solved. The Detective now needed to work out who was behind this and why. Sherlock swept out of the room leaving John still on the floor and without even saying thank you.

Sherlock rapidly stormed down the stairs in search of Irene. He found her in the reception area, 'servicing' one of her girls. Rolling his eyes, he made his presence in the room known.

"Irene we need to talk upstairs now" commanded Sherlock.

He gave her a moment to straighten herself up before he walked out, stopping for only a small second to make sure she was following.

They both stepped into the crime scene room to find John disabling the electrified floor.

"Have you had any work done here recently?" asked Sherlock

"Couple of weeks ago, we had the electrics sorted out. Why?" Irene inquired while staring at John.

"Whoever completed the work also electrified the flooring by the window. However I suspect the death trap may have been meant for you. Who did you get in to do the job?" replied Sherlock, pacing the room trying to fit the facts into place in his head.

"A local company I think. It was cash in hand, but I wasn't here when the guy came so I don't know who he was" Irene answered contemplating who would be trying to kill her... Again.

"Who knows you are alive?" John blurted out bitterly. This earned cold stares from both Sherlock and Irene. Turning back to the job at hand, John continued to disable the trap. Cutting wire though, John was certain the floor by the window was now safe. He pulled himself up on to his feet and walked over to Sherlock.

"I received something a couple of weeks; I thought nothing of it at the time, just someone trying to scare me. I'll just go get it" said Irene, stepping out of the room.

Irene handed Sherlock a A5 sheet of stationary paper with a message applied to it with a fine tip fountain pen.

'Vovxgirxrgb xzm yv z yrgxs nfxs orpv z dsliv rm z ivw wivhh. R droo hprm blf'

"It's in code. The letters have been reversed. The letter 'A' swapped for the letter 'Z' and so on. Pass me a pen and a piece of paper, please John" stated Sherlock while studying the writing style carefully.

John pulled a pen from his jacket and small notebook that he had taken to having with him on cases, and passed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock began to decrypt the message.

'Electricity can be a bitch much like a whore in a red dress. I will skin you' Sherlock read aloud.

All three adults whispered in unison;

"Moriarty"

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait for the update. If there are any mistake, I'm sorry! Hope this created enough angst and tension for you. I also have to say I have loved reading your reviews for this story, you guys really do keep me going. **

**Have a good day! :) **

**Kt x **


	16. Chapter 16

It's only in the deepest, darkest recesses of Sherlock's mind palace can Moriarty be found. In order to find the crazed Irish man you must trek past the murders, the unstable men and the manic criminals until to come to a room more harrowing than the others. The door to this room is a shiny steel triple bolted sheet of metal, which just shows how truly horrific this man is to even the most intelligent of people like Sherlock Holmes who is too afraid to let the mental version of Moriarty get out of control. To allow the man out of his cell would mean giving over the keys to his palace to an utter mad man, something Sherlock knew he couldn't let happen.

"Sherlock, are you listening?" asks John, snapping his fingers in front of Sherlock's face.

John's voice pulls him from his mind palace; images of the dark cell like room fade fast as he is lugged back into reality. Sherlock continues to stare blankly at John. He knows Sherlock is still coming out of his palace and needs a few more moments to register his surroundings.

Blinking a couple of times, Sherlock glanced at John trying to remember what he had said.

"Hmm?" muttered Sherlock, while both Irene and John stared at him.

"Sherlock what are we going to do about Moriarty?" interrupted Irene before John could reply.

"Ah yes back to subject at hand. We; meaning John and I are doing nothing but going home, you however do whatever you want. Moriarty's conviction is with you not us. You will not drag us into your power games with that psycho. Come along John" hissed Sherlock toward Irene while gesturing for John to step out of the room.

"Please Sherlock I'm begging you to help me" pleaded the woman clutching onto Sherlock's arms in order to shake some sense into him.

"I already saved your life once, I'm not doing it again. Goodbye Irene" spat Sherlock. Irene immediately released her grip and crumpled to the floor in defeat. Sherlock took one last look at her before shuffling himself and John out of the room.

John took the stairs two at a time, despite the twinge in his leg. Sherlock followed him out onto the street, thankful to be out of that place.

"What now?"

"Home" Sherlock simply replied.

* * *

Both men spent the taxi journey home in quiet stillness with occasion interlinking of hands. Neither spoke of what had happened at the brothel nor did they speak about the man that they both knew would be coming back to haunt them.

Sherlock knew that Irene had little chance of escape from Jim, but that didn't mean that they had to get involved. Sherlock had to keep John safe at all costs. As the taxi pulled up to the curb next to 221b Baker Street John handed the driver a few notes and proceeded to follow Sherlock out of the cab and though the door. Sherlock yanked the flat door wide open, watching it pound against the wall behind it.

_At least he's not shooting the walls_, thought John as he rolled his eyes. John carefully shut the door behind him and watched Sherlock flop onto the sofa, back turned against the room. John stepped towards him, crouching so that he could run his hand though Sherlock's unruly curls.

"Sherlock we need to talk about this at some point" John stated.

"I won't let Moriarty hurt you; I refuse to let that man anyway near you. I will die protecting you John" whispered Sherlock, still facing the sofa. It wasn't quite 'I love you' but Sherlock's declaration made butterflies in John's stomach.

John leant forward to press a single kiss onto Sherlock's temple. Leaning back on his balls of his feet, John pushed himself up from the sofa to make them tea.

As he boiled the kettle John just hoped it would be a while before they saw the dreaded psychopath again.

* * *

**Just a short quick update for you lovely people! Sorry if there is any mistakes.**

**In reply to Elimayz; Thank you! Just hope you like this update :D**

**In reply to Katsy17; Thanks! :)**

**Have run reading!**

**Kt x**


	17. Chapter 17

**I have no idea where I'm going with this story, so here is a lovely sex scene of all you lovely people. :D **

* * *

Sherlock dragged himself off of the sofa in order to search for John. He found him in his room sorting out the washing that had mounted up over the past couple of days. Sherlock paced towards John, lightly stepping over the creaky floorboards. Just by the slight pricking of ears, Sherlock knew John had heard him enter the room. Trying to scare John was impossible, his soldier reflexes were too great for Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock leaned forward to gently kiss the back of John's neck, while caressing the sides of John's hips with his hands. John smiled as he continued to fold up the washing and place them into correct categories.

"John I'm trying to get you off, stop with the laundry. This is more important" groaned Sherlock as he suckled a part of John's neck causing a small lovebite to appear instantly.

Giggling at Sherlock, he continued with his chore determined to annoy the taller man up as much as possible. This only aggravated Sherlock more. He clutched John's arms and span him round to face him. Before John could protest Sherlock covered his lips with his own, in a heated kiss. As John moaned into the kiss, Sherlock took advance slipping his tongue into John's mouth. The feel tongue on tongue caused John to drop the red pants he had been holding so that he could wrap his fingers though that dark hair he loved so much. Sherlock had managed to push John back onto to the bed, wrecking the clean washing that had been placed carefully on the bed. John huffed in annoyance but this only made Sherlock more eager to explore the rest of John's body.

Sherlock climbed on top of John, pulling his hideous woollen jumper off of him and throwing it across the room. Sherlock practically all but tore John's vest from him. Sherlock kissed his way down John's chest, paying special attention to his scar and nipples. Long pale fingers gripped John's belt buckle as he un-threaded the metal from the opposite piece of the belt. Sherlock tugged the button of the trousers away from the hole, opening John's trousers. Sherlock then pulled the trousers completely off of John's legs. Sherlock stood back from John, observing his prey. He proceeded to undress slowly to torture John. Unbuttoning his shirt, he dropped by the other disregarded clothing followed by his trousers. Sherlock watched as John's cock rapidly hardened though his boxers. Sherlock grinned as he mounted John back on the bed. John trust up to hit Sherlock's crotch with his showing him how needy he was. Sherlock ground his erection back on John, eliciting moans from both of the men. John swapped their positions, pushing Sherlock onto the bed. Pushing a hand into Sherlock's pants, John grabbed his erection freeing it from it's confines. John rubbed Sherlock's erection using the pre-come as lubrication. John quickly turned Sherlock into a quivering mess. Sherlock chanted John's name as he pushed himself into John's hand in order to attempt to get more friction. John released his grip, reach into his bedside drawer in search for lube. Gripping the tube with his fingers he pulled it out and began to empty some of the contents onto his fingers.

Sherlock moaned at the lack of contact. John quickly changed his this. Shifting Sherlock's legs apart, John pushed one finger inside of Sherlock, pumping in and out. He then replaced one finger with two, repeating the action. John easily pushed three fingers into Sherlock, stretching him thoroughly. Sherlock's body jolted in pleasure as John hit that spot inside of him. John continued to nudge the spot, until Sherlock was begging to be fucked. John lined himself up, than snapped his hips forward impaling Sherlock with his dick. Joan loudly groaned as he continued to pulling himself in and out of Sherlock's body. Shifting slightly he began to hit that area once again. Sherlock grunted into John's neck as continuous jolts of pleasure ran though him causing goosebumps to cover is body in excitement.  
John kissed Sherlock's neck as he began to finish Sherlock off. Using one hand to stroke Sherlock, John could feel his orgasm nearing. Sherlock stared straight into John's eyes as he came with a groan shooting hot sticky fluid over John's hand. John pushed himself back into Sherlock once last time as he also came. John's arms gave way as the force of his orgasm knocked all the energy from him. John rolled off of Sherlock to lay next to him. He watched quietly as Sherlock took his hand to lick his own come off. The sight of his made John moan as his dick gave a deflated twitch. Both men could feel themselves tiring.

Rubbing the side of John's face, Sherlock whispered to his lover; "I love you, John"

John smiled back at Sherlock as he replied, "You are everything to me" With that, both men napped together, holding onto one another.

* * *

**Hope this is okay, if there are any mistakes sorry once again! Thank you for reading! **

**In reply to EliMayz: :) Just glad you are liking this story so far! Not too sure when Moriarty will appear but I can promise it will be angsty as anything! **

**In reply to Lapus: Thank you! It's even hotter now! :D **

**Reviews, comments, etc are absolutely welcome, I read everything you guys have to say. Can not believe how much you people have like this story, thank you!  
**

**Kt x**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello everyone, hope you have all had a good week. **

**In the reviews a jealous Sherlock was requested, so a jealous Sherlock you shall have! :D **

* * *

Sherlock padded his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, leaving his lover sound asleep in bed. Pulling the cupboards open, Sherlock pushed the pickled jarred fingers out the way in search of tea and biscuits. He placed the kettle on to boil and waited. As the steam rose from the device, Sherlock washed two fresh cups up and gently put them down on the worktop. Sherlock followed the routine that John did when making tea. Teabags in, water in, stir, teabag out and milk in- just a dash of milk though; John liked his tea strong.

Sherlock organised the drinks and the biscuits onto a tray to take up to John. Lifting the tray from the side, Sherlock heard a small beep noise. He put the tray back down and searched for the location of the beeping noise. It was coming from the sofa, Sherlock ran his hands down the sides of the cushions and pulled out John's phone.

_1 New Message - Jeanette _

_Hey John, how are you doing? Fancy a drink sometime? xoxo_

Sherlock read the text with disdain. How dare this woman try and his John on a date. John didn't need to know about this.

_Text Message Deleted_

Sherlock arranged the phone back in-between the cushions of the sofa and proceeded to go back to the task at hand, surprising John with early morning tea. Walking back to the kitchen, Sherlock grabbed the tray once again and jogged up the stairs to John's room.

Sherlock deposited the tray on the bedside table and nudged John's arm in order to wake him. John stirred but didn't fully wake up. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock mounted John and practically rubbed himself against him. This ought to wake him up, in more ways than one. John's eyes fluttered open to view Sherlock on top of him, humping him.

"Sherlock seriously it's too early, maybe later?" groaned John.

Calling defeat Sherlock rolled off of John and on to his side of the bed.

"I made you tea and biscuits, because I love you" stated Sherlock, childlike in his voice.

John smiled at his partner and reached for his cup of tea. "You are just perfect" answered John.

Watching John swallow his tea, Sherlock stayed silent he felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was guilt from going behind John's back and deleting that text. He tried to push the emotion as far as way as possible. Sherlock just hoped that stupid woman wouldn't text back again, then he would be in the clear. John glugged down the rest of his tea, while Sherlock's cup remained untouched. John set down his cup on the tray and stretched out his arms above himself pushing all the stiffness from last night's activities from his body. Pushing back the covers, John got out of bed and began to find clothes for the day ahead.

"I'm going to go to the shop we are low on supplies, want to come?" asked John while hopping on the spot trying to put trousers on.

"If I must" Sherlock blankly replied.

Sherlock sauntered out of the bedroom and down to his room to get dressed. He would rather of stayed in bed with John or even taken a case below a 7 rating than go to the shops. But if John was there to suffer the bores of everyday life, than that was just fine.

* * *

Both men strode down the street in the direction of the local supermarket. They entered the overly bright shop, John grabbed a basket and began to wonder down the aisles in search of what to have for dinner. Sherlock tagged behind John much like a stroppy child who had been denied sweets. John ignored Sherlock pouting and continued shopping. As John was deciding between pasta and chicken he heard someone else who wasn't Sherlock call his name.

"John. John" announced Jeanette. John turned to where she was stood.

"Oh hello Jeanette, how have you been?" asked John in an attempt to be civil to his ex-girlfriend.

"Fine thanks, did get my text?" inquired Jeanette, gently smiling.

"No I didn't. What did it say?" asked John with a hint of confusion.

"If you wanted to go for a drink really" answered Jeanette fluttering her eyelashes at John as if that would make him agree easily.

Panic rose up in Sherlock. Sherlock quickly wandered off down a different part of the shop leaving John with his ex. Sherlock realised what aisle he had walked down. Sherlock grabbed some items from the shelves and ran back to John.

"John I didn't know what type of brand lube you wanted so I got both" stated Sherlock.

John's face quickly turned red as he blushed. Jeanette was stunned into silence glancing between the two men. Sherlock continued to make the situation awkward.

"John I was thinking that we could get some chocolate body paint for tonight as well?"

"Sherlock stop talking" replied John staring daggers at Sherlock.

"Wait you two are together, together now?" asked Jeanette. Sherlock answered before John could.

"Yes. John loves having sex with me, not surprising really when you look at the dull women he has been with before" Sherlock blurted out before his mind could stop him.

Looking shocked Jeanette huffed, turned and walked away from her ex. Least she was gone now.

"For fucks sake Sherlock don't state the obvious. You deleted that text didn't you? That's it Sherlock no sex for a week!" shouted John just as he realised they were arguing in their local shop.

Sherlock stayed silent for once, staring at the floor. John strolled down the rest of the aisle, not even looking at what he was putting in the basket. He went to pay, he just wanted to get out of the shop and go home.

As he paid John noticed Sherlock gently tip-toe towards him. Sherlock made no attempt to talk to John, he was still brooding from being shouted at in the middle of the shop. However he did pack the bags as John pulled out his wallet to pay for the shopping. Sherlock carried the bags home hoping this would make John happier and lift the sex ban.

As they entered the flat Sherlock put the shopping away while John flopped onto the sofa, still angry at Sherlock's actions.

Sherlock came back into the living room to talk to John.

"John I'm ever so sorry for what I did. I was jealous when I read that text. There was a part of me that thought that you may of thought twice about being with me if a woman tried to come onto you" whispered Sherlock with his head hung low.

There was a part of John that twinged when Sherlock said he thought John wouldn't want him just because some piece of skirt came along. How wrong the great Sherlock could be.

"Sherlock when I say that you are everything to me and that I love you, I actually mean it. But that doesn't give you right to go though my things. As I said before, no sex for a week. Hopefully you will learn you lesson" replied John staring straight at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded as a reply then walked out the room to his room, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

It was now early evening and John hadn't heard a peep out of Sherlock, not even so much of a '_I'm bored John_'. John decided to check on his partner. Knocking on the door first, John turned the handle to enter the room. Sherlock was asleep under his bed covers. John observed Sherlock face. His pale face was in stark contrast to the red puffy eyes; he had been crying. John bent down to stroke Sherlock hair. The detective stirred, blinking to clear the sleepiness. Sherlock focused on John.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you, Sherlock"

John engulfed Sherlock into a hug, kissing the side of his neck while paying with his hair. Sherlock clung to John harder. Sherlock wasn't crying at being shouted at by John, he was crying because he felt he had betrayed John by going behind his back.

John climbed into the bed with Sherlock, not letting go of him.

* * *

**Sorry if there are any mistakes.  
As requested jealous Sherlock! **

**All reviews, comments and suggestions are much appreciated. Any requests for ideas to add into the story are also appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think.  
**

**Thank you ever so much for reading :) **

**You can find me over at tumblr at brokehisactionman as well :D **

**Kt x **


	19. Chapter 19

Days turned into weeks as the boys continued with everyday life. John still went to work at the mundane doctors surgery while Sherlock experimented on various pieces of John's belongings. It had seemed that their enemy Moriarty had all but forgotten about them. For once John felt that the didn't need to constantly look over his shoulder for the mean time. But both Sherlock and John knew that soon he would come back and one of them wouldn't survive.

* * *

Stepping into the flat John was met by Sherlock jumping into his arms,kissing his face. The weight of the other man had pushed John backwards onto the sofa.

"What's all this for?" chuckled John trying to twist Sherlock around to take control.

"I've missed you, John" moaned Sherlock thrusting into John's lap.

John deepened the kiss. Pushing his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock ran over hands over John's body feeling his slight muscles through his clothing acquired from running around London chasing criminals. A beep from kitchen made Sherlock jump from John and run into the kitchen. John followed him. The kitchen was covered in pots and pans each with different food substances burned to the bottom. The bin was over following with various packs of rubbish. The general smell of the area was a mixture of spices and burnt food. Sherlock rushed towards the oven, pulling on oversized gloves he pulled the tray from the heat to place onto the stove. Stream rose to fill the kitchen, diluting the smell further.

"What's all this?" questioned John.

"I tried to make you dinner because it's been a hard day at work for you. But I may of miscalculated how difficult it was going to be" answered Sherlock poking the unidentifiable contents of the tray. John smiled at the scene in front of him. He stepped forward to wrap his arms around Sherlock and bury his face into Sherlock's neck placing small kisses there.

"Thank you Sherlock. But seriously what the hell is going on? You wouldn't make dinner just because you missed me. So what is it? What part of the flat did you burn? What possessions do I have to replace?" challenged John determined to get the truth.

"I thought making dinner would soften the blow" muttered Sherlock.

John let go of Sherlock to turn him to look at him.

"Blow of what?" John asked becoming worried.

"Moriarty" breathed Sherlock. John stiffen at the sound of his name. John's eyes scanned Sherlock checking for signs of distress and even injury.

"Tell me everything" demanded John holding tightly onto Sherlock's upper arms.

"He contacted me after you left for work. He want to meet me. Alone" spoke Sherlock numbly.

John was shaking his head before Sherlock had even finished his sentence. There was no way John was going to let Sherlock meet that madman. Not in a million years.

"No" bellowed John, making Sherlock shrink back at John's sudden anger. Sherlock didn't even attempt to argue, there was no budging an irritable John Watson. He threw his hands up in defeat. Unknown to John, Sherlock had all ready planned to see the psychopath for himself.

* * *

**Here is a quick small update for you lot. I really have no idea what I'm doing with this story. I've run out of ideas. If there are any mistakes I'm sorry! Any comments, reviews are welcome :) **

**Have a good day :D **

**Kt x**


	20. Chapter 20

Have you ever felt the overwhelming need for someone? The desire to be with they one person no matter what they are doing? Does that person create a crushing pain in your chest when you can't be with them? Does your stomach flutter as they enter the room? If you felt like this about someone could you let them walk off into the clutches of a madman? You couldn't? Neither could John. He was going to stop his lover from doing the most stupid thing ever, even if it killed him.

He left the detective sound asleep in their bed as he tiptoed down the stairs in search of Sherlock's phone. He needed to know the last time Moriarty had contacted Sherlock. Phone in hand he was surprised to see that Sherlock had willingly accepted the psycho's offer at a meeting. He should have known that Sherlock would go against his wishes. Grabbing a post-it note from the desk, John scribbled the meeting place and time down. He then carefully arranged the phone in the position how he had found it. With the note tucked into his pyjama pocket, he crept back up the stairs to be with his Sherlock.

Sliding under the covers, John shuffled up to Sherlock's warm body. The other man stirred in his sleep waking lightly.

"John what time is it?" groaned Sherlock blinking trying to clear his vision.

"Time you went back to sleep" replied John nuzzling into Sherlock's neck pressing kisses just below the hairline. Sherlock hummed at this early morning affection John was giving twisted himself around to view John. As they lazily kissed Sherlock grabbed at John's sides in an attempt to press them closer to each other. John broke the kiss to look Sherlock in the eye for a moment.

"You know I love you right? I would do anything for you" whispered John trying to stop any signs of distress from pouring out of him.

Sherlock glanced over every inch of John face as he deduced what was wrong for John to suddenly feel the need to remind Sherlock of facts he already knew.

"Of course"

With a slight nod of the head, John gently kissed Sherlock for the last time as he fell back asleep. Sherlock soon slipped off into his own slumber once again.

* * *

Groggily Sherlock awoke stretching his arms and legs out as far as possible, pushing all the tightness out of his body. Sherlock then rolled towards John's side of the bed for a cuddle only to find the sheets stone cold. Immediately Sherlock bolted up straight, carefully listening out for signs of life from the flat. Nothing.

Grabbing his clothing he dressed in a hurried manor with buttons uneven and zips not fully tightened. He pounded down the stairs eager to find out where his partner had got too. It wasn't like John just to leave without informing Sherlock of where he intended to go. Sherlock often demanded that John tell him important things such as this, even if he was in his mind palace. Some would call this over-protective but Sherlock had every right to be so, there was after all a manic psycho on the loose.

There was no sign of John anywhere in the rest of their flat. Eyes darting around the room Sherlock noticed a small detail wrong with the desk. The post-it notes had been moved. Stepping towards the desk, Sherlock observed that the fresh post-it note clearly had marks of writing impressed to the paper where the person writing had pressed too hard. Grabbing the post-it notes, Sherlock held it up to the light of the window in an attempt to read the pressed writing. The light glanced off the indentations perfectly for Sherlock to read the message.

_13 Lupas Street, 7pm_

Surely not? No. John wouldn't of, would he?

Panic hit Sherlock instantly as he felt a crippling over-whelming feeling engulf him. Sherlock knew exactly what he had to do. He reluctantly found his phone to message his brother for help. He then proceeded to contact John.

* * *

John followed the sign posts, unsure of exactly where the correct address was. As he stumbled through the winding streets, the day turned to night as the sun lowered in the sky and the reddening light glistened off the windows of the surrounding buildings.

John soon found the warehouse. Gun resting heavy in the waistband of his trousers he scouted the environment around him checking any signs of being followed.

A vibration against his upper leg distracted him from his mission.

_Caller ID: Sherlock_

_Answer / Dismiss_

**_Dismiss_**

John quickly adjusted the setting on his phone so that no more calls could disturb him. He pushed the phone back into his pocket and pulled leather gloves out from his jacket to cover any trace of finger prints. Arranging his profession mask he continued his mission.

As John sneaked deeper into the shadows around the building, he removed his gun from his waistband. He held the gun between his hands, relishing the feeling of the metal against the leather gloves. All his senses heightened as edged around the outside of the building. He found a side door, unguarded and slightly open. He elbowed the door open further, gun aimed into the area.

Nothing.

He carried on sweeping through the building ready to take action at any moment. There was still nothing. No people guarding the building and nobody even in it. He knew he was earlier than the chosen time, but surely Moriarty would of had arrived earlier to set up for his and Sherlock's meeting.

John came to metal ascending stairs. He climbed them carefully, placing his feet slowly on the stairs so that no noise would be made.

He made his way up to the second level of the building, he had a perfect view of the centre of warehouse. He decided to wait, placing himself against the wall to wait for Moriarty.

* * *

That stupid man. How could someone be so totally irresponsible?

'He has the ordasity to lecture me about personal safety while he won't even answer his phone?!' screamed Sherlock as he threw his phone at the wall smashing the mirror.

Scarf tugged off the rack and coat yanked on, Sherlock flew out of the flat with increased vigour. The detective didn't know who he was more pissed with; himself for letting this situation occur or John for not answering his phone.

Sherlock ran towards the main road, shoving past people as he ran. Sherlock ran straight out into the road narrowly missing a passing car. He observed as a nearby taxi became empty, he rushed forwarded plunging into the back of the taxi. Shouting directions to the driver, Sherlock quickly promised the driver extra money to drive faster. The taxi bounded through the streets, dodging beeping cars with angry drivers.

Sherlock became more and more agitated as the seconds trickled by. He dragged his nail over his wrist, sub-consciously, feeling the rush of blood flow through his veins. The breaking of the car coming to a halt increased the adrenaline in Sherlock as his thoughts focused back on finding John. Remembering to pay the driver, he threw far too many notes over the seat as he exited the car.

* * *

**Thank you to the brilliant Iamsherlocked223 for betaing this chapter. And a massive thank you to Third Witch Generation for prompting ideas for this chapter.  
**

**Feel free to comment and review! :) **


	21. Chapter 21

**_I AM SO SORRY_**** to keep you guys waiting..**

**Basically this is the end. This chapter wasn't what I originally planned to happen, so it's kind of a plot twist. I had a whole chapter written out for the original story-line but fan-fiction deleted it! So I decided to change it. **

**I'm sorry it took so long! I've finished my exams now (whoop) but I have a job interview on Friday (boo) so depending on what happens there may also affect if I have any time to write as much as I would like too. **

**This chapter hasn't been betaed as I wanted to get it done and completed for you guys, so if there are any mistakes, I am sorry!**

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John heard the distinct sound of a door opening below him. He listened as footstep graced the floor. From what he could hear John guess it was a single man, but it sounded too loud to be Sherlock. It must been Moriarty, John was right as he watched the other man's head come into view as carefully walked forward towards the end of the warehouse. Adorned in Westwood Moriarty, span around to face the door at the front of the warehouse. Unknown to John, Moriarty knew exactly where the Doctor was hiding.

The same door creaked open.

"Ah Sherlock nice to see you. It's been too long" purred Moriarty grinning at the detective.

John stiffened at the mention of his partner's name. He hoped that he would have got this personal mission over with before Sherlock arrived.

"Where's John?" calmly demanded Sherlock as he stepped towards his arch enemy.

"John who? Oh yes, your pet. Or should I say your lover?" stated Jim, his smile dropping at the end of his sentence.

Sherlock couldn't react. They hadn't told anyone about their relationship not even Mycroft knew. In that moment Moriarty had just shattered their safe haven they had created around themselves.

"The great Sherlock Holmes speechless" spat Moriarty his mood darkening into anger.

"Did you really think I of all people wouldn't find out? Do I look like an idiot? You should have realized Sherlock that you are mine and only mine" exclaimed Moriarty.

John was ready to take a shot at Moriarty just to end this nightmare. He paused as Sherlock's curls came into view.

"I'm surprised you didn't see the obvious Sherlock. Remember I will burn the heart out of you" spoke Jim. Moriarty then raised his hand and clicked his fingers.

It was a signal.

Two of his men bundled John wrenching the gun from his grip. He didn't even see it coming. He gave a small yelp as he hit the floor. Sherlock turned to see what was happening. He was witnessing the worst situation as each of the men dragged John down the steps towards their boss. The men dropped John at the feet of their master.

"What do we have here?" questioned Jim as he placed a well aimed kick into John's ribs.

John clutched at his chest and wheezed as Sherlock gasped in horror, he was about to aid John but another click of Jim's fingers signaled the men to pace towards Sherlock to hold him in place.

Although he didn't like to get his hands dirty, he made the exception in this case. He continued to kick John. The doctor took the beating as he held his arms up to protect himself. Jim then bent down to haul John up onto his knees. He looked into John's eyes as blood slowly dripped down his face. Jim pushed John's fringe back to view the whole of his face.

"This isn't easy for me to admit John, but I really don't understand Sherlock's _attraction_ to you. You are mundane and plebeian. So this means we have a problem" mumbled Moriarty stroking John's cheek softly.

Sherlock simply stared at Moriarty unsure of his intentions.

Moriarty stood up straight as he walked over to Sherlock. Placing both hands of the sides of Sherlock's head he spoke quietly to the other man.

"Leave him and come with me. We both know our minds could be wonderful if we put them together"

"Only if you leave John out of this." replied Sherlock, hoping to face his partner rather than himself.

Moriarty grimaced at the sound of John's name but nodded in agreement.

"Boys terminate " ordered Moriarty clicking his fingers like a king. The men pulled John from the floor and took him to another room. Panic over took Sherlock, there was no way of getting out of this situation.

"That's not what I meant and you know it" stated Sherlock, heat rising from his face.

"John will be left out of it; dead. Then we can continue with our destiny" asked Moriarty stepping towards Sherlock to take his face in his hands.

Sherlock let himself relax into the touch and close his eyes for just a moment to give the impression that he would be compliant. Sherlock began to grin, and then smirk.

"What did I miss?" demanded Moriarty shaking Sherlock in an attempt to get him to answer quicker. Sherlock pushed the other man off of him.

"Put this way Moriarty, over half an hour I smashed my phone. Effectively cutting off the GPS signal do you really think my dear brother would have let me drop off of his radar" spat Sherlock as the other man gravely realized what this meant.

A shout of command outside filtered through the walls of the warehouse as armed men stormed the building, shouting for all weapons to be put down and hands to be put behind heads. Moriarty was the first to be cuffed, while Mycroft hovered by the door overseeing the operation. Sherlock impatiently waited for the men to clear the room that John had been dragged to. He just needed to know that John was fine and that it was all going to be okay.

Sherlock attempted to rush past one of the armed men but was held back as they brought the two men out. The blood and cuts on their knuckles relieved to Sherlock instantly their activities. Sherlock was more worried; the armed men still wouldn't let him into the room. From Sherlock's angle all he could see was an outline of a body, facing away from him. He knew it was John, he just couldn't tell whether the body was alive or dead.

"Ambulance for Dr. Watson, now!" called one of the men. All of Sherlock's worst fears were suddenly coming true.

Blue lights flashes across John's vision as he felt his body being moved with his conscious permission. External voices whizzed around his head as people tried to communicate with him as they checked his vital signs for life. Among all the commotion John recognized the familiar texture of Sherlock's hand gripping onto his. He blocked out all the other voices and centered his mind on Sherlock. As he focused he picked up the frequency of Sherlock voice. However he was too far gone to understand exactly what Sherlock was saying. The words were being over-powered by the sirens that surrounded them. With the only remaining energy he had in that moment, he squeezed Sherlock's hand back as he reluctantly let himself drifted into an unconscious state.

Everything hurt. His muscles felt stretched to breaking point and the clothes he was wearing felt heavy on his bruised skin. John hadn't opened his eyes yet, he needed thinking time to remember what had happened. The images his memory could provide were those of pain and beatings. Those henchmen were certainly handy with their hands.

The constant low buzz of beeping seeped into John's fuzzy mind. Heart monitor. He couldn't quite tell how many beats a second he was giving out, nor could he use what strength he had to open his eyes. He had to rely on his other senses to visualize where he was. John knew he wasn't alone. He tried to focus his mind on the breathing pattern of the other person.

He tried to fight the cloud of haze that was descended over him. Sensation was returning to parts of his body. Sherlock's hand on his felt warm, protective and comforting. However the dull ache of his injuries was just taking hold.

He let his hand tighten around Sherlock's hand. Just to let the other man know he was conscious. This earned a gasp from Sherlock, followed by the predictable questions of 'John can you hear me?' And 'Can you open your eyes for me?'. All to which John couldn't respond to, as hard as he try too.

Nurses soon stepped into the room followed by another doctor, all checking John over. Sherlock knew John would hate all these strangers touching him, especially after what just happened as well as his past experience of hospitals. He tried to keep in close bodily contact with John just so the other man didn't feel alone. The nurses gave John more pain relief as he groggily woke up from his medically induced sleep.

John's eyes fluttered open as the light of the room slightly burned his eyes. He blinked repeatedly letting his eyes adjust. He silently watched as the nurses moved around him. He ignored the staff as he observed Sherlock's figure.

Sherlock's brown curls were a mess as it stuck up in areas where he had run his hand through it in frustration. Sherlock didn't hide his tired face and the darkening bags under his eyes stood out from his pale face. Not to mention the fact he was covered in dried blood, mainly John's blood from the warehouse. He looked like hell.

"Shlckk" choked John as tried to call out Sherlock's name.

"I'm here John. Don't try to strain yourself" replied Sherlock as he pushed John's hair back from his face.

Satisfied with his recovery, the staff left the two men alone in the room. Silence engulfed the room as the two men didn't know what to say in this situation. They both just held on to the other, neither taking their eyes of the other. Sherlock broke the silence first.

Tears gently rolled down John's fragile face. Sherlock leaned forward to kiss the tears away from his partner, when John flinched.

"Shit. Fuck, I'm sorry John" whispered Sherlock. For a moment he let himself forget that John had been beaten half to death and probably didn't want to be touched.

"Hurts. Need rest" numbly replied John.

* * *

As the day passed nurses wandered in and out of the private room. Dinner time soon came. Sherlock pulled the hospital table over John's bed as the nurse placed his meal onto the tray. In John's opinion the food looked a lot better than most other food served in NHS hospitals. This private room was being funded by Mycroft so the food should at least look and taste decent. Sherlock gave an encouraging look as John slowly reached for his fork. It was hard not to notice how John's hand had developed a shake. Sherlock tried his hardest not to focus on the unsteadiness of his hand as he ate his meal.

The shaking became so over-whelming that John dropped part of his food. John hated himself for letting his body be so weak; he should be the strong one willing to save Sherlock at all costs not stuck in a hospital bed being useless.

Sherlock picked up the fork and began to help John feed himself. This angered John more.

"For goodness sake Sherlock, I'm not a child" shouted John as he pushed the tray away with such force it hit the floor.

Sherlock took a deep breath to calm himself in order to not raise his voice with John.

"I'm only trying to help" commented Sherlock as he cleaned up the mess John had made.

"I don't need your help, I can do it myself. I just... I just... I can't." John broke down.

Sherlock didn't know what to do. John had never showed this kind of emotion in front of Sherlock before. Sherlock had heard and witnessed the night terrors of post traumatic stress that John suffered from but this was different. Sherlock instinctively wrapped an arm around John to comfort that man and to show support.

John wiped away his tears with the material of his hospital clothes.

"I'm sorry. I just hate these types of places, ironic really seeing as I'm a doctor. When I was shot I was in hospital for weeks, nearly went out of my mind with madness because of it" explained John while holding on to Sherlock.

Sherlock wasn't sure exactly when John had drifted back into sleep because he was so tired from the injuries. He was just grateful that the doctor was finally resting. Sherlock detached himself from John's sleeping form as he wandered over to the chair next to the bed. He let his eyes close as sleep also claimed him.

* * *

An ear blistering scream woke Sherlock. He fell over his feet in haste as he reacted to the noise. Once on his feet he saw John squirming in his bed, screaming Moriarty's name. John was having a nightmare, and a horrific one at that. Sherlock tried to shake him from his dream. He then held John against his chest as he rocked him. This calmed John down. The heart monitor also calmed down as John gently awoke to cling onto Sherlock.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this" stated John settling back into the hospital bed.

"Non-sense. We will get through this. Do you know why?" ask Sherlock, carefully holding John.

"Why?"

"He is gone and I love you, that's why" replied Sherlock gently kissing the top of John's head.

Sherlock had all but demanded that John stay in the hospital until every bruise and every cut had healed. Over the weeks John regained his strength and was finally putting the ordeal behind him now that Mycroft was using the government resources to keep Moriarty prisoner. John had just about gotten use to the hospital food when Sherlock told him they would be releasing him in the next couple of days. Eager to get back to Baker Street he had also ready signed the discharge paperwork and was waiting for Sherlock to order a taxi for the journey.

Mrs Hudson welcomed them with open arms as well as the offer of tea and biscuits. Both politely declined in favour of getting back to the flat, back to their home. The mirror was still in pieces on the floor.

"Yeah... about that. I'll clean it up later" stated Sherlock, guiding John towards the sofa.

"I'm just glad to be back" smiled John, taking in the regular features of the flat.

Switching on the television, both settled down on the sofa for a relaxed night. Sherlock didn't interrupt with any comments about the programme they were watching; he just let John enjoy the peace and quiet for once.

John shifted in his seat, closing the gap between him and Sherlock. Both leaned in each other's touch. They both had missed close bodily contact; it had been weeks since they had last touched each other, weeks since they had shared intimacy. John twisted his neck to look up at Sherlock. He marveled at the way the light from the window was streaked across Sherlock's face, making his pale skin glow. His eyes focused next on Sherlock's cupid bow lips. John wanted nothing more than to trace the light pink skin with his fingers. John covered Sherlock's hands with his, enlacing their fingers. John glanced back up to Sherlock's face, and that's when it hit him. The over whelming sense of want, need and desire. Reaching up to cup his face, John gently pulled Sherlock towards him, lightly kissing those tantalizing lips. Sherlock didn't need much encouragement as he pushed himself onto of John, placing a leg each side of John with one hand still interlocked. John pushed his other hand through Sherlock's hair, twirling those curls through his fingers. As the kiss deepened, the moans and the sound of clothes rubbing together got louder as the men became more passionate with each other. They really needed to take this somewhere more comfortable.

"Bedroom, now" Sherlock grunted quickly returning his lips to John's. John could only nod in agreement.

John pushed forward from the sofa; Sherlock took this opportunity to wrap his legs around John's body. It took John a few attempts to gather the strength to lift his lover. Once lifted John made his way to the bedroom, occasionally stopping every few moments to push Sherlock up against the wall to deepen their kisses as well gain some strength to carry Sherlock the rest of the way.

As soon as they entered the bedroom, John placed Sherlock down onto the bed and climbed on top. He began to tear at the other man's clothing, wanting them off as soon as possible. Sherlock reached for John belt, making light work of the buckle, while John struggled with Sherlock's tight buttons of his shirt. Once John had managed the first few buttons, the rest came undone with ease. John's shirt was pushed over his head and thrown across the other side of the room. John grabbed hold of Sherlock's sides with eagerness, and then tugged at his trousers. Sherlock wriggled out of the trousers with the help of John and was just left in his underwear. John took that moment to remove the rest of articles of clothing from himself including his underwear. John kissed his way down Sherlock smooth chest, kissing each area of his skin. He stopped at the band of Sherlock's underwear. He hesitated for a moment to build up a little bit of suspense for Sherlock. He slowly pulled down the material using his teeth. Sherlock's heart rate increased as he tried to control his breathing. His hands were scrunched in the bed sheets in order not lose his self-control.

The material was soon dumped on the floor. John ran his hands over the skin of Sherlock's upper legs, feeling the goose bumps that were forming.

"John, please" whined Sherlock pushing his hips up towards John.

Grinning he continue his torture on Sherlock, skimming over his the skin but never touching Sherlock's groin area. Finally John gave into Sherlock's desperate moans. He took Sherlock into his mouth. The sensation causes Sherlock to arch of the bed, moaning as he grabbed John's hair to ground himself. John continued to suck and pull up and sink down onto Sherlock's member. John had reduced Sherlock into a babbling mess in moments.

"Too much, too much John" groaned Sherlock, fingers running through John's short blonde hair.

John pulled off of Sherlock and began to kiss him. Sherlock reach towards the side of bed and pulled a bottle from the bedside table, then quickly pushed it into John's hands. John didn't question the signal as if flipped Sherlock onto his front. Spreading his legs, Sherlock grabbed onto the pillow in anticipation. John squeezed the liquid out of the bottle on to his fingers and began to prepare Sherlock. Sherlock gave little resistance as John slid his fingers inside of him, preparing him. With the other hand, John was about to reach for a condom from the bedside.

"No protection" quickly demanded Sherlock.

John was a little stunned, they were both old enough to realize the consequences of unprotected sex, but those men were clean. John agreed and flipped Sherlock back onto his back, facing John. John smothered himself with the rest of the clear liquid. Lining himself up with Sherlock's entrance, he pushed himself in gently to not cause his lover any pain. Once inside he paused for a moment to give Sherlock time to adjust, Sherlock pulled John's face towards him, they weren't quite kissing, but their lips grazed each others. Sherlock pulled John's lip with his teeth; this small action caused John to push forward a little more. Sherlock gave a satisfying moan. John took this as a sign to continue.

Pulling out and pushing back forward, John began making love to Sherlock. Both men were caught between the sensation of the sex and trying to grab hold to as much of each other as possible. It was a mess of limbs and heat as they rocked against each other, in their own little world. The headboard of the bed banged against the wall, but neither of them cared.

"Shit Sher, do you have any idea how you look right now?" questioned John, just before attacking Sherlock's neck with love bites.

Sherlock titled his neck to give John easier access.

"Tell me Jooohn"

"So fucking hot. I can't believe I get you all to myself"

Sherlock reply was a long drawn out moan of pleasure. John attempted to increase the speed as he took Sherlock in hand to match his rhythm. Sherlock clawed at his partners back in a fit of over excitement. Sherlock was soon pushed up to the edge of pleasure ready to tumble over at any moment.

Sherlock came first; digging his nails into John's back as his jerked and screamed his way through his orgasm. John was still pounding into him. He took a detour licking the fluid off of Sherlock's stomach. Then he came, filling Sherlock with a warm sensation. John was riding high on the euphoric feelings of the orgasm.

"God Sherlock. You are perfect. I wouldn't want this with anybody else but you. Marry me?" babbled John, not quite realising what he had said until it had left his mouth.

Sherlock looked back at John, waiting for him to take back what he just said. John pushed himself back up to face Sherlock.

"If you want you I mean. Ah shit. I'll just be quiet now" commented John, slightly avoiding eye contact with Sherlock.

"Yes" instantly replied Sherlock

"Is that a yes to me being quiet or a yes to the marriage thing?" asked John just too quickly clarify what was happening.

"A yes to the marriage, John" grinned Sherlock, like the cat that had just got the cream.

John was dumbfounded this brilliant man who had cured his limp and brightened his universe up wanted to marry him. John kissed him lightly on the lips, showing his love for the other man.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling him closer to get better access to him.

"I guess this is a new beginning for us.. Round 2?" Asked John pushing the curls away from Sherlock's eyes.

"You read my mind"

_Fin._

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**A happy ending for once! I hope you guys like this. **

**Feel free to comment if you hated or whatever. **

**For those of you that have read my other story (falling apart in your arms again) I've got a bit written down and the sequel should be with you shortly! :) **

**Thank you for taking the time to read this. You can find me over at Tumblr under the name of cannibal-for-hannibal if you any future ideas or just want to talk! :) **

**Kt**


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